A Most Unexceptional Morning
By Paul Brucker
Two women crouch in their bus seats, silent and shivering, fathoming the myriad ideas that bind a woman’s life.
They know the difference between a donkey and a postage stamp.
They wear skimpy clothing, their genitals protected by clamped arms between their knees.
They sit pretty although sitting, contrary to popular belief, does not conserve energy. Expending energy gives you a greater sense of energy while worry makes you less resourceful.
I wonder if just during this bus ride, they can forget hierarchies, social class, differences, jealousies and worries?
Can they go deeper and deeper into the most mysterious and profound realm?
Can they do this even though I am incapable of doing this?
I guess not, for I can feel the loss of their body heat, as it remains proportional to the temperature of their surroundings, as their every gesture is observed and recorded pursued by a terrible knowledge.
The bus bursts forth with a liberating light across vast stretches of unspoiled nature where nothing is distinguished clearly except bodies in distorted attitudes in intervals covered with thick black dust.
A few of the contorted were killed for giving bad haircuts.
I assure you that other than these wonderings on a ho-hum bus ride, it was a most unexceptional morning.