In Transit #1

In a semi-conscious state, I opened my eyes and rubbed the spot where the side of my head bounced once more against one of the dead light switches that lined the bus’ walls. Bounce, bounce, my hard head. How could something so hardline stubborn actually bounce? How could the gray matter encased within allow its steadfast boundary repeated trauma? It’s as if I couldn’t embed the thought into my head. It’s as if I haven’t faced family and friends and shrugged it off as if it didn’t matter to me anymore. Looking at the light switch through sleep-dazed eyes, it’s as if I see only half of the world, and through a lopsided gaze at that. The yellowing switch sat on a shiny, squarish, deep violet base, attached to the wall with a plastic lining of imitation stainless steel. Innocent-looking enough, but quite a pain. Then again, light switches aren’t meant to be bounced upon by world-weary heads. If only the switches worked, I probably would’ve given the lady seated next to me quite a bit of disco ambience. Maybe if I tilted my head a bit away, it wouldn’t magnetically connect with the enticing light switch every five minutes or so, depending on the bus’ speed. Hugging my backpack, I think sleep is a precious commodity, purchased only at the expense of projects unfinished, words unwritten, deeds left undone.

Leaning back into my seat, I try and recapture the elusive state of rest, sore temple and all.