Cornered by the intensity in a bus full of comings and goings-
thumb flicking and tapping- nails polished and painted-
amidst the diversity , finding commonality in our uniformity-
until the mirror breaks free!
In a shaded countenance of thought
the lull in chatter precedes the storm,
the breathing being, just now, too loud?
And then the bus rolls on.
In the street lines coloured by street lights,
at least the right way leaning, save me from this place-
this place I call myself.