Cheese and Buses

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Cheese and Buses

Count the days,
let them melt
into each other like
cheese on the grill.

Gently softening and
running over the sides
of toast and into the
black, black abyss.

And then watch
the days pass, like
noisy buses on
the busy main road.

Reliable,
sometimes empty
driving on regardless
of weather or purpose.

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4 thoughts on “Cheese and Buses

  1. I think this poem is really good. The cheese on the grill and the buses – great metaphors for empty days. We all have them, don’t we? I like the words black abyss for the place under the grill where the cheese drips. Really good.

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