The everyday, the banal

 

The everyday, the banal

I’m sitting upstairs on the bus
It’s later than normal – 9.20am
No swimming today
No cycling
I’m not up for it
I’m needing to rest

The summer sky is sunny with white clouds
An open window beckons a cool breeze to chill my bare arms
And waken me from myself
I welcome the slight discomfort

When I look up I see strangers
The backs of heads I don’t recognise
They are skeletons sitting quietly
Stripped of clothes and skin
Their brains processing
Hearts pumping
Lungs breathing
Conversations within
And without

I can see their thoughts
Their histories
Memories
Feelings
Anxieties
Love
I can see where their fear comes from

A boney arm stretched over
The window banged closed
A spell broken
A mile passes
And another

What is this experience?
Or was?
It is now a memory written in a notebook
Why?
To remember
To See
To wonder

How would my companions recall their journey?
Perhaps no further thought would be given
After all
It was a short journey to Glasgow
The everyday, the banal

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2 thoughts on “The everyday, the banal”

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