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Letters from the Battlefront
Autobus Meanderings
I become reminded of life.
Of human nature in all of its grotesque oddities
I wish for patience.
The perplexities of this new crowd is extreme
I seek to categorize them, varying on their shapes, and colors, and yet, they tend to do it themselves regularly.
Their smells combine to something horrifically putrid, and somehow fragrant.
The abnormalities are absurd, really.
Some eyes half-lidded, others, peaceful and somber.
Shut, ushering away all guests within their vision.
Some, frighteningly alert.
Some hidden behind glass and metal and plastic.
The colors vary, but generally remain as popular genetics dictate.
An auburn, to hazel, to espresso, to black, or at least seemingly.
Words litter the street outside, painted on buildings and signs and posters taped to telephone poles.
All reflected past the cheaply manufactured windows.
Their eyes are beautiful, at a second glance.
Perhaps, I am a fool, enamored.
Cerulean, plastic headphones, unlike my own, snake down from their captor's ears, and disappear within folds of fabric.
Blue hat, blue shirt, blue pants, blue shoes.
It seems to be a reoccurring theme.
Unremarkable pierced ears, from which thin golden hoops swing freely.
Eyes now wide.
Darting.
Paranoid.

Everyone is a fiend.


Wulfieh
Community Member
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