a secret society
of lost ideologies
and upset stomachs
acidic with pride
tired
because we woke up our old gods
too early
it is not the end of the world
and now they are making it so

i miss her
as though i am at stay-away camp
with no access to a phone
or mail
and i am instead forced
to wait

The buzzing in the ears
Of the children in the room
Is a cacophany
That drowns out the discussion, hushed, over the phone.

And so the thrumming
Of heartbeats in chests
Rise to the pounding of drums
Which rattle in our brains.

Who is next?

Is it you?

Is it me?


Who

is

next?

I am sitting in the rain,
Awaiting the bus.

I want to go home.

But I am sitting in the rain,
Awaiting the bus.

The bus is here, but I don't want to get on.

So I am standing in the rain,
Considering the bus.

The driver opens the door, waiting for me to enter.

And I stay standing in the rain,
Eyeballing the bus.

"Ready to go?" I shake my head, but enter anyway.

I am sitting on the bus,
staring at the rain.