poem of the day 10.04.10

too tired

i am tired
too tired to cry
or do anything else

i am hungover again
tired of being hungover

but i’m a damned fool
i know if i get my way
that i will be hungover again tomorrow

and the bus driver
is blasting 80s music
on the ride home from work
i sometimes hate 80s music
because it makes me think of childhood

they are boring thoughts
of mishandled time
that cannot be regained or manipulated

it is a time not worth thinking about

the bus driver looks tired
tired of driving a bus
tired of the forsaken faces of the many
tired of the silence of miles

and there is a kid
one of those fast food cherubic
rambunctious types
curious about everything

he is squirming in his seat
trying to open the big glass windows on the bus

just watching him work
the smile plastered on his fat face
makes me tired

his old man is sitting next to him
a dumb, lost look on his face

he is dressed in a vintage football jersey
his hat on backwards

he is not watching the kid
who now has the window open
and is sticking his fat face and body
out into the tired evening

i think that maybe the father is thinking
about the football season
or how boring and common
his life has turned out

but i hope that the kid doesn’t fall
out of the window
not because of an undying concern
for humanity
not because i wouldn’t want to see it

but because i don’t want this bus
to be held up

i guess my kindness and benevolence are tired

but then the bus driver yells at the kid

what in the hell are you doing?
he asks, his voice tired
of yelling at kids whose parents don’t care

the kid jumps back into the bus
his old man wakes from his pale reverie
and starts yelling at the child out of obligation

the kids sits there and takes it

he’s not sad or angry
he’s most probably used to it
he knows that he just has to wait this out
soon his old man will forget about him
and everything will be as pleasantly stagnant as it was before

there’s a wonderful dullness in the child’s eyes

i recognize it as my own