In the buss there are faces, hands and beating hearts
each of them a person, living his or her life outside the buss
all these fates fill out this shared space for minutes or hours
then they move on, shredding the passenger-anonymity
Each of them carries a light, invisible to most, but not all
maybe it sits behind the dulled passenger-eyes
sometimes morsing feelings of happiness or a cry for help
however, not many knows how to read these foreign signals
The light gleams red when elbow brushes elbow
in the buss there often is a subdued war of tired feet
each passenger wants a seat, some have them, some not
the feet demand their right, but the elbows win the game
In time the passenger is released back into his or her fate
maybe they think of a special tired face, signalling in vain
however, they saw the morse-signals, they felt the light
only nobody cares or nobody reads this specific language
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Originally Posted On Site: 2009-10-27 15:46:46
Last Login: 05.22.12
Visits as of 12-12-07: 74
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