Thursday, November 20, 2008
I caught the shower of petals and leaves just before the bus picked me up to take me home. Typical people. Typical conversation. The restless complaining, but rise bright and early to make sure they're miserable on time. There is a slight stench of stale coffee, and half smoked cigarettes. The grave like seats that we have jumped in are warm from the asses of the last batch of poor saps that rushed home to prepare their TV dinners in hopes the programming would be as satisfying. The fear I had that I would end up like this grows deeper with each pull of this yellow cord. Bitter strangers break my concentration on soaking in the scenery of the car cluttered streets that only soundtracks can explain.