Dealing with the Nature of Existence on the City Bus

These passengers are actors
playing their roles quite well
I fumble through my pockets
looking for a map
or some help
driver, what stop?
city? world?
I try making a face
that has not yet been assigned
a human emotion
not being able to think of one,
I yell things incomprehensible
to grab someones attention
appealing to their
alligator brain
(the most primitive section,
connected closely
to the olfactory sense)
more passengers get on
but no one pays attention
a woman eating cheese
seems to be staring at me
but she's looking at a gym
across the street
this is a thing to be handled
with the utmost care,
I think
because the bus is missing
all its stops
and time keeps on
slippin'
slippin'
slippin'
into the future
and there don't seem to be
any answers here

how fragile
this heart
the sinew that holds it
in its chamber
the flesh of lungs
organs that filter
and react
protecting the brain
how many inhalations
ticks, flexes, swells?
what a long process,
fullfilling this body’s purpose
and what a miracle,
the turning of a morsel of bread
through chemistry,
into words on a page