The Noise From The Vaccum by Gaegake Motlhanka - HTML preview

Night Bus

I wipe the condensation

from the window and watch

the exhaust dance like a ribbon

on the concrete

and the steam rises from the gutters

like these thoughts from my mind.

You can leave this city behind

but some baggage is stuck with you

like shackles around your ankles

and I’m anchored to my seat

watching the towers

melt away

like a photograph set fire.

The bus stops

and my backpack falls to the floor

as we pick up one more night traveler

and as he walks up the steps

I see my face as his,

his guilt as mine

and the bus pulls away

and the exhaust dances like a ribbon

on the concrete.