I want to ride the bus forever
on my way
out the window is the cemetery, as
it climbs up the hill, looking on
the stones like
neoclassicals as twilight came
angels standing motionless

I walked on and went to the back
the lighting was off, just pale
gold of the street
and headphones in, something
ambient, secret
and scarf around my face
snow fell like thoughts
outside the window

wet boots on the floor
mill on and
off, doors opening and closing,
watch soap opera lives
moving in a hex
no one
sees I am here,

how to capture time?

Snow falling
outside like
the shapes while rubbing eyes;
the way

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