From my window seat

“This is a familiar route and one of the most common ones (at least to my seasoned eyes; you may find it beautiful)” — overheard. ______ A day like any other, but also a day like no other— She’s losing the threads again. No—she’s finally starting to see. —A day like any other. The bus hustled over cracked cement in damp air— a sight scorched to the back of my skull. I sat in my window seat like it’s a reflex— a voice nudges me in the ribs break something— it said —anything, just stopping sitting here. I switched sides before my brain can question if it makes sense. I let my eyes drink out the other window— A smidge of red—a balloon. Something navy—a child’s backpack. A birdless branch wobbles— My gaze drifts up, the sun reply with dazzles— For a second, everything rhymed.