The 'blues' of Traveling

Head against a pane of glass,
eyes staring vacantly at the countryside that passes by.
Corn fields, flowery fields, wheat fields, bean fields..
pass by, with the scars of the roads cutting between them.

White and yellow stripes racing across gray pavement.
Catching the eye, at random intervals.
Counting them as they go by...
One...two....three....four...
lose count, just to drift away from the lines.

Stretching in the seat, nothing seems to be normal,
people are asleep on the bus, middle of the day.

Silence is placed upon the ears of passengers-
except for the sound of passing wind.

Rattling stops, resounding thuds, echoing footsteps,
as people stomp down stairs, luggage hitting against the sides of the bus.

Curl into a ball, nothing else is needed.