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Critical Analysis #2
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j0n4th4n
Member
since 2003-03-11
Posts 94


0 posted 2004-03-08 04:50 PM


When I was riding the bus on my own,
sitting underneath fast skies, timeless,
underneath the soft window-glass,
I began to think about
the journeys we often make
together here, her and me; the
bus rounding up endless, curvingly-steep
corners, lifting heavily up
the concrete slopes interchangeable
in their similarity; the grass
popping living-green or multicoloured
(flowers?) round my eyes' corners;
the touch, heavy like an embrace,
of her hand onto mine. And in

my mind these journeys now
seem to become one; rides
on the plastic cuboid
creaking with mass,
anticipation of kisses,
hands, eyes, tongue,
gliding in our inside,
zig-zagging (but smoothly)
upwards, like the bus,
achieving ever greater height,
swinging its great mass,
its creaky, pendulous
semi-hollow density, throwing
its trailing load hillwards.

© Copyright 2004 j0n4th4n - All Rights Reserved
Grover
Senior Member
since 2004-01-27
Posts 1967
London, ON, Canada
1 posted 2004-03-08 06:55 PM


Great images.
J.Samm
Member
since 2004-01-12
Posts 415
Iloilo City, Philippines
2 posted 2004-03-12 11:00 PM


i liked how your words flow...made me look at the idea of riding a bus in a whole new light
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