Another Morning Commute

The world hums differently at 6 a.m.

The people,

the trees,

the roads,

the sky.

It’s not something one can measure,

and yet

the feeling is so heavy.

People make their way through the bus doors,

the lucky ones finding seats by dirty windows.

Everyone is tired before the day has even begun

masks up, headphones in, and eyes glazed over

as they watch the scenery fly by.

Some doom-scroll through useless Facebook opinions,

unnecessary Instagram posts of food,

and tweets on the latest cancelled celeb.

Their backs are needlessly bent and slouched,

like prawns with their faces

glued to their screens.

Older and greyer passengers squint at their phones

holding it at a distance

as if that will make things clearer.

Others stare blankly at nothing, zoned out,

their minds wandering off to places far from the

541 bus to the city.

Glimmers of the early sun’s rays shine through the

passing houses and trees,

fading the stars out from the sky.

The bus ride is long,

longer for some knowing they’re already late for work,

anxiously focussing on the road as if their

long stares will get them to their stop faster.

Others wish it was longer, hoping for another minute

another second

another moment of peace from the chaos of work.

The blue and red seat covers are

dirtied from the myriad of backs and backsides

that have rested on them.

Many contain curious stains that

house unknown viruses and diseases

not worth dwelling on for too long.

People carry curious items with them on the bus:

A designer handbag taking up a seat.

A science project balancing on nervous knees.

A guitar case obscuring the view of the road.

A plastic Coles bag full of sticks, just because.

Each item sends questions through

fellow passenger’s minds, some of which

no one wants the answer to.

QR codes are still sticky taped and blue tacked to the windows,

reminding weary passengers of the

time we live in;

a time where terms like “Pandemic”

“Vaccination”

and “Case numbers” have become commonplace.

People dodge each other’s eyes, afraid

they might see something familiar

in a stranger’s irises.

Three descending chimes sound

as the “next stop” sign lights up in

neon yellow.

People shift their belongings, readying themselves

for the awkward dance between strangers for

who gets to walk to the doors first.

The bus groans to a stop and a sea of people leave its doors.

Some hesitate slightly, knowing as soon as they leave

the safe confines of their morning commute,

life begins.