Monday, June 20, 2011

The Last Stop Before Arrival

Knowing when to get off.

Watching out a window fogged up with the breath of strangers.

Rain pounding against the glass, rivets streaming by.

Rocked into a daze, hearing so much it becomes nothing at all.

Tired.

Pull the cord.  You are here.

Now, let your feet find their way home.

1 comment:

Jen said...

"Rocked into a daze, hearing so much it becomes nothing at all"-- perfectly summed up public white noise.