Bus Ride

he is a guest in another beings dream a stranger sleeps behind his eyes when he thinks about this he shivers and turns to the window letting himself be distracted by the dusty fields the wind cranking farms the bus is half-full empty seats are occupied by the soon to be born the soon to be dead and those in transition hinterlands overlap and leak a young man yet to be conceived stares about him thinking he is in a movie people speak a language known only to hollow trees and wooden owls there are no subtitles for his state of mind passengers cling to the long straps of their thoughts as the coach sways some occupants are uncertain if whether they have a real ticket for a real life others think they may have purchased a ticket with no destination they fidget in their seats wonder why the trip is taking so long under spinning rubber the ground sinks away while an inverse sky rises