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by vernyce dannells

A pubescent girl tries herself out on an oblivious stud bus driver
Everywhere abominable headphones insulate noise or
communality, its wearers
deafened eventually
I like express buses but they should be called expressionless
I guess speed is about that anyway
Is smack called that because the junkies I see using pummel
their veins,
such as are left, to make them thunder up for a dose?
Is it even close to the thrill of clarity when something
obscure renders apparent? I just want to ride somewhere
because thoughts just roar through me, drowning this pace
— we’re moving, no question, but what destination becomes
is a place called STOP.
Is that why the riders are such in pods, releasing silent
When we emerge, are we there??


copyright © 2003
from "temporarily abated"
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