public transportation

dead-end bus picked you up at noon & self confidence slammed your body into the seat next to her, behind the driver's chair- he's clearly a fool wearing mundane skin to blend end, but his cigarettes linger on your lips & you're focusing too hard on not staring to notice it.

winter seeps into the folds of your legs as the coffee in your hand blares steam in the crying eyes of a father hidden behind his integrity masked by pride 'cause his daughter's run away again; why don't you go find her? you ask him; mind your own business, i have a son to support and a wife to care for, he hisses rusted words in your direction & shots aren't cheap this time of year.

overweight? the air snickers floating the woman's sucking of fingers to your ears; starving children to prevent their obesity, & you think, is that's fate balancing something? your neck snaps, blood trickles to the back, insanity reminds you your stops in seventeen minutes; yet, the revelation there's another life a part of the bus just four seats down sinks it's claws under your nails ripping them up & this whole damn place is a tragedy, you think but you're still, unaware.

blindness is a cure to earth's cruel miseries, thank your mothers immediately & shake your wings clean from the grim they collected from the bus ride your boyfriend left you to ride; because when your heels click the concrete you weren't an angel that rode the bus but a figure to remember who's privacy is what makes these years their prime.

ironically, your bought wings come with a lifetime warranty only; since when death collects after use you'll realize their simplicity & priceless being- as in, they're worth nothing really.