I rode home on a bus full of commerce.
The ride was a good one
I noted that all the Questions
were sitting in the back
of the bus and that It
was an apartheid of ideas riding
in the back of the bus.
I realized, after missing my stop,
I missed my stop, and that this bus
wasn’t going to stop
… anywhere.
I shouted out to the Questions
at the back of the bus.
I desperately tried to warn them;
“Hey, Questions, the Questions belong…
you belong…
in the front of the bus and
that as long as the bus was
segregated as such it wasn’t
going to stop.”
I yelled till my throat was sore
and more Questions soared to the back of the bus
like bats flitting from a cave of angst
from behind my eyes and between my ears.
towards the back of the bus,
“Don’t you know a bus stops
that is what buses do…
buses stop at bus stops…
bus stops are lined up in such a way
that Questions get off
the bus first and Answers
follow.
It doesn’t work the other way
around… if Answers
get off at the stops first then
the bus goes nowhere
and that it isn’t a bus after all.
This bus is a roller-coaster
ride that you can’t get-off
of until the ride comes
to the end
of the line
and that you can’t get-off
it before it takes-off
on another rondo in the rodeo
of circular thinking… round and round of
Answers… Answers… answers
to Questions never asked.”
Oh no, how did I get on this bus
that isn’t a bus at all?
It is a dooms-day machine.
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