sitting
on the bus
i feel the hands
of another
night at the bar
as i close my eyes.
i feel water
gathering along the edges
and saliva
slide past the knot
and down my throat.
i smell a homeless man;
strange
how they carry their scent
like luggage.
i open my eyes
for a moment
and see faces,
familiar and foreign,
then close them again
and slip back
into that dizzy state
of sad daydreaming
rest.
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