Commute Surrender

We climb aboard a bus in London

And watch the high streets glittered with 

Their lights and their shops turn

Into green rolling hills dotted with 

Cloud puffed sheep looking up

At their reflections in the sky.

Your head bobs and rolls toward

The direction your sleeping body would have

Led us, and the vibrating glass window

Rumbles electricity into my pressed ear.

I feel that kind of decisionless peace.

The calm to be found in a loss of control.

Nothing to do but be, and watch the pictures spin by.

I glance back to see your now shining eyes blink

Toward the landscape change

And you hold out a delicate box of mints.

I drop one on my tongue

And imagine for a moment

I am out in the field with the horses

Lapping up that icy fallen moon glow.

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