Bus Ride

April 3, 2011
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When I get on the bus I pick where I normally sit
Near the window is where I like it

As we start to roll I begin to think of life right now
My Friends
My Family

Then I look where I am
The road is running behind my window
The yellow slits coming and going as it sprints
Grains dancing in the wind
Trees shivering in the cold
Snow leaping up and down in piles
Cars whirling before my eyes
And as fast as all of this is happening
It stops
Completely still
I look up from the window
The bus driver says “You’re home again.”
As I’m walking off the bus I feel, calm

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