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Tuesday, November 3, 2009

bus ride

a chilly night
and the cold, hard cement
and perhaps last week's paper
or some old box
that's all that they have
and back at home
i had
more blankets
and pillows
than i could use in a week

the person beside me
wrapped up in the bubble
of her own troubled existence
lost in the labyrinth of her problems
while all i had to worry me
were some stuff from school
and other minor things

and that peddler of nuts
immersed all day
in cacophony of blaring horns
and babble of voices
in overcrowded streets
back home
my younger brother's noise
seems too insignificant

and this bus ride that's been stuck
in this traffic
for 10 minutes
is but a fraction
of the driver's day
a day of
unreasonable passengers,
and unbreathable air
and overcrowded streets
and blaring horns
and traffic.

dare i complain?

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