Pondering of the Bus Stop

Written Oct.6, 2008
Sitting in a public glass case, the orange glow of the street lights seems to illuminate my thoughts as well as the darkened street. Shadows flit beyond the edges of the light, as they sometimes do in my head. And as I sit here with warbling tunes and lyrics stroking my ears and worming through tiny canals into my mind, I feel as though my heart is caged. I can almost feel the barriers around it, built up becuase of past wounds that are clearly visible. Seemingly ancient scars that, if my heart could see a potential observer, would surely cause it to recoil and hide the ugliness those scars display and the past turmoil they represent. So it has built this cage, this cushioning, this barrier to prevent such wounds from occurring once more. And all the while it mourns for the pieces that have been gouged from it, and are now missing due to carelessness and naivity and certain idiocy. Never again. Never again….until the next time. But maybe next time it will be prepared. Next time it will know better than to lower those bars, no vulnerability, never again.

But if I had the chance, I would throw my self and that wounded heart fully into the fire, and the flames would rise up and consume me. And I would embrace it. If only the opportunity would knock upon those iron bars. It’s hard to connect with faces gazed upon in shadowed club lighting. It’s hard to sense intentions and understand what lies behind those darkened eyes that have no color but black. At least in that bleak and dreary atmosphere.

But amongst all the trappings and goings on of life in the city, sometimes its hard to see through the neon haze. And I sometimes find myself amazed that I can even think through it. With no stars in the sky to guide my thoughts. With nothing but the orange street lamps and the whispering, moaning of public transit.