Symphonic Transit Prose

From the operator's seat, I hear, see, feel what's happening.

The rare poetry in passenger chatter rising above the funereal silence of technological hypnosis. White noise, easily dismissed.

Six wheels humming, thumping, bouncing over weather-ravaged pavement.

Muffled roar and governed whimpers of a powerful motor, 30 feet behind me.

Murmured human greetings or purposeful silence ignoring my own.

Bus fart as the air tanks reach their capacity, the compressor informing me its task complete.

Headlights in the rear view, warning me of the multitude's intent to pass whether safe, impatiently illegal or foolishly daring... although, traffic ahead is thwarted by red.

People so engrossed by their social media they fail to consult the omnipresent obvious; caught between bus stops, indignantly expecting me to pick them up regardless. I won't. Had my bus arrived on time, they would expect the next and never see me.

All senses tuned to everything within, without, withstood... everything in balance like a superbly-conducted orchestra.

BLASTED! by the rudeness of an intrusion of noise from that narcotic gadget. Hypnosis-Interruptus... their anger erupts as my polite voice is amplified backward, imploring them to stop. Yes, to stop electronic sounds screeching like a 4-year-old's untuned violin in the midst of my transit symphony. Just... stop.

Lives at stake, yet Audible Man cannot understand. For I am but his servant. Who am I to order silence within my own office? How dare I!

I dare, indeed. Those indignant few are perfectly welcome to try their noise anew... in the bus behind.

Now I can focus again.

The motor hums, the tires roll, this masterful symphonic performance resumes. Again I hear that which my soul balances with the 10-hour-long industrial concert.

Stop and lock, log off on Track 37. Yard noise welcomes me back. Safe once again. Victorious yet 11-paid hours (12 real, counting commute time) taken from my life clock.

Tired trudge inward, once again crying "SUCCESS! VICTORY!"

Comfort in Skye the Car, seat enveloping and caressing painful body parts. My own music soothing me.

Awaiting me home is Beloved, my soul's ultimate warmth.

From my home seat, true peace. I no longer hear, see or care what happened before.

Safely home. Again... Tomorrow be the unpromised; now is the comfort.