I sit at the edge of a lost time and think...

A bus-load of people.Sweating.Shouting.Sitting.Standing.Surviving.I counted a drop of water for each of those anonymous human.It didn't even fill a glass.It didn't even quench my thirst.

How useless were they!How useless their lives!

Yet,that bus went.With all those people.Still sweating and shouting and sitting and standing and surviving,somehow,for another day.

I sit beside a broken dream,and think...

The bus (it's route number?maybe it was an SD-4,or a 206-the fact is,who cares?) comes,passes me and goes.

It doesn't affect me.It never will.Until I get on it and start sweating and shouting and sitting and standing and surviving in it...like those others.

But mostly,it will never affect me.

What a big joke!The bus keeps coming,keeps passing me and keeps going,but forgets to be noticeable,to be a stand-out,to be unique...

It fails,despite those brilliant,breathing men and women it's carrying.

Then,why does it come and pass me and go?

God-only God-knows.

I only sit and think...