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
Source: S. Amos