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by S. Amos

S. Amos is a Philadelphia-based poet deeply interested in
the cognitive dissonance of social science within the built
environment, the heart in its rib cage, and the humanity in
society

Base cash fare /


It’s early and I’m doing my best


Are you going to 20th Street? /


To feel rested after rest


Move back /


To make room to have none and constantly think about


Is someone sitting there? /


Guns, germs, steel, the end of the world, the class that’s next


I don’t have it today /


Did someone say once that it would all work out?


Was the bus supposed to be here by now? /


There’s just this urgency of doubt


Caution /


That gets stirred up every time things start to shake


Can you cut the air on? /


That keeps God in the routes


Excuse me /


Tugging, pulling, pressing on, seems to take


Doors are closing /


Counterfeit energy, dopamine placebo, deep fakes


Detour /


That always keep me from where I’m meant to be going


Thank you /


Silently reminding me we do not control the breaks


It’s okay, I’ll take the next stop /


Such a certainty of knowing


*The wettest cough you’ve ever heard* /


Even though the cracks are showing


Bus is turning /


Earth is revolving, but how can we be sure?


Sorry /


It’s a large haul to be towing, but just as I start growing–


Back door

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Source: S. Amos

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