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Bus stops and bookstores.

I have fifteen minutes till the number 8 bus comes

better make it ten just to be safe.

Overpriced glossy covers of airbrushed creations with bodies I will never have and lives I would never want mock me from the shelves.

I settle on a literary journal which accepts me as I am.

(a cup of tea has gone cold in your hand)

I have seven minutes till the number 8 bus comes

better make it five just to be safe.

I approach the cash register with a $20 bill and you tell me that you saw me on the sky train this morning.  I tell you I wasn`t on the sky train this morning.

She had my hair and my coat you say. 

I take my change and leave the store thinking of my other self

--Taking the sky train instead of the bus and waiting                                                                                                                                                for seconds instead of minutes
but hopefully still finding time to read poetry. 

Author notes

Um...maybe not a poem but just an experience. Then again maybe the two are the same.

Please tell me what you think

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Comments


  • bozoloper
    February 27, 2008

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    all poems are some kind of experience! i like the way you write about life in free verse, gives the reader a glimpse into the narrator's mind.


  • Scion
    December 2, 2007

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    I enjoy reading this type of poetry above all others. I call it "real-time" poetry because it's about one moment of your day, or one particular event that you've captured in poetic form. i enjoy it because it's so witty, so entirely eye-opening to see into someone else's world. This poem was particularly enjoyable becuase i've been that person. I've waited for the bus, offering my time and my money to go some place that i can no longer remember the reason why I am going in the first place.
    I mostly liked the sky train. Made me laugh out loud. To think of yourslef as another person weaving in and out of the lives of poeple you have never even met. brilliant. Also, this reminds me of my friends poem about her Garage Sale. it was priceless, just like this. Cheers.