Bula

This bus rolls through the countryside

The sun slowly setting through parted clouds

The longest trip yet taken comes to a close

I am heading back home

I listen to my music for the first time in many days

I am reminded of what I will return to

I shudder to think of it again

The keeping alive

What I do to them

And not for them

 

I pass villages on a local bus

No one knows or cares about our expensive bags

It is past six

Everyone is home

Spending time with their dearest

Hanging clothes out to dry

Laughing and hugging

They live in another impoverished world

But aren’t they rich?

To love so freely?

To wave and honk at any passer by?

Neither implying or seeking anything but a hello

 

Sam says his sister died because her belly swelled up

Said that it happens sometimes, the effect of black magic

They took her into the hospital and they said there was nothing inside her anymore

She died

As everyone does

Might that not be better?

 

jlgiuliano@gmail.com

 

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