on buses
in London.
Sitting there
all those hours gathered
like metaphysical
frequent flyer miles
Buys time
in the dreamtime
leaning your head
against vibrating walls,
a tired supporting hand,
gazing out on
pearl-bound nights,
looking at the internal pictures
of your life.
Talking
(dancing)
to the ancestors who
guide your steps
shadow-bound
singing safe your life
from bus stop to
bus stop
of your life.
Daniel Skyle © 2010
