On the Bus

heat on the brink of intolerability
radiator under the seat
my lips burst in dry heat
even the fake leather is hot
my head against the cold window
scratched milky pane
the city moves past distorted
my backpack on the seat beside me
a men-spreading prevention system
I take a deep breath and quickly exhale
smell of old diesel motor
exhaust gritty in my mouth
and yet
despite heat encroaching
despite fumes
despite stranger’s crotches
I am relieved
For I don’t have to carry time
time clamps my chest
weighs down my shoulders
yet here in movement
I don’t have to carry time
frustrating forced flow forward
is paused
I want to meander
I want to press hold on a moment
I want to go back
I want to jump ahead
I want to rest extended in space
until I am ready to continue again
and right now
right here
I am free
the bus splutters along the road
carrying time and movement for me
my thoughts wander along the rhizomes of life
resting at nodes of have and could have beens