My morning commute is not just as it seems


If things are as I suspect
There is another world
Where I am the lover
Of the driver
Of the morning bus

Where he awoke predawn
And slipped from our bed

Where a thread of lamplight
Shone under the door
And I heard the soft
Beginnings of the day
As he made coffee
I’d drink later

Where I shut my eyes
As if in prayer
Pulled the bedclothes
Around me like arms
That smelled comfortingly
Of last night’s cigarettes
And sex

Where I lay quiet
Until I heard his cup
Set on the countertop
Until the light went out
Until I heard the door
To the other world open
Then heard the door
to the other world




Well off topic.

Image: States of Mind by Galantucci Alessandro, published under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) license.

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