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BUS RIDE AT SIX-O-CLOCK

stars like ashes light my eyes as i

lean my head on an imaginary shoulder, (sturdy as a boulder);

i peek through my sleepy lashes in time to see a blue gradient filter encompass the horizon, sunrise filtering through a criss-crossed window pane while i fall asleep again,

left-over laughter claiming my lips like i wish he would, softening the swollen edges of my eyes,

settling on his hilarious intensity.

small giggles bubble from their throats like sunshine as i lay immobile.

we are helpless to the day’s charms—

our burden-less joy is global.




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