By myself
At the bus stop
The cold bench seeping through my jeans
As the world continued to change
Even though there was no evidence of it.

A light breeze leaned against me
I felt naked
More naked than the time I delivered a speech without my notes
I embarassed myself
And I dwelled on it afterwards
But I left it on my pillow at dawn.
I've chosen to dedicate my footsteps on a path of uncertain certainty
Certain uncertainty -- if you're a pessimist
Some of us walk through time like a buffet with one item
Deplete of social orgasm
Void of complication.

And the need will definitely arise
To escape from the mundane
If only for awhile
Some find it within the leaves of a book
Others in the nocturnal men, women, men/women of the coin
Sexual desserts for hire
Pleasure retailers
Denizens of the curb
Call them what you will
Each one of them has a face
And each face has a name.

Many do not know
That they sleep at the doorway to a new paradigm
That they do not have to follow their own footsteps
That they walk among heroes
Fallen warriors
Fatigued by foolish dialectic
A handful are well rested
Tongues cocked for action
And they will lead you.

In the distance
A bus eats into view
Blue line #4
I stand up to halt its approach
I step onto the bus, take a seat by the window...
And lean my temples on the cold glass
The bus is stuck in its footprint because of a mutinous front door
The driver manually stiches us in by kissing the pneumatic door with his boot
He reassumes his seat, locks us into gear and we gently roll away.
I peer through my reflection to catch one last glance
A single rose, shivering in the cold
On the bench where she and I met
Some 5 years ago.
The world continued to change
And it was now evident to me.

by Jeremy Chin