TOLERABLE OBLIVIONS

the bus growled on    
     opposite me    
from all i can tell  
     a long haired scientist    
and his lover sit    
     holding hands    
while reading    
     occasionally whispering    
private things    
     quietly into    
each others ears  
     in a fashion you    
might see in france    
     romantic french    
secrets perhaps  
     though i would suspect    
they are probably    
     only sharing    
comparative theories    
     and analytic opinions  
    
seemingly joined    
     at their hips    
and ribs as one  
     in their somewhat    
crass and oblivious    
     public display    
of intellectual intimacy    
     wholesome    
in a mirrored    
     sort of way    
i guess  yet still    
     somewhat stale    
in their bonded    
     completion    
and in the way    
     they strive    
to sustain    
     their public    
illusion  of near    
     perfect  idyllic    
contentment  
   
     aloof in an aura    
of sturdy confidence    
     remote and    
clinically insular    
     presenting a dull    
bored air  to all here    
     in this bus    
around them    
     as if life will not    
truly begin again    
     until they can    
get back into    
     their research labs    
and computers    
     to wrap their minds    
around all that    
     endless
research
     data    
   
their private    
     conversation    
of whispers    
     sounds to me    
like an intentional    
     vehicle out of    
this moment    
     as if  now    
and being    
     on this bus    
are only a tolerable    
     oblivion    
where they seem    
     to be successfully    
staying  just ahead    
     of themselves    
   
but of course  
     i realize here    
that despite all my    
     unspoken opinions  
and ungrounded  
     wild assumptions    
these thoughts    
     and impressions    
may only be  my    
     peculiar observations    
and unfounded    
     misjudgments    
based only on    
     appearances  
   
the bus stops    
     momentarily    
at a red light    
     my eyes casually    
drift beyond    
     the couple  
out the window    
     behind them    
to focus upon    
     a large painted    
mural  on a nearby    
     restaurants wall    
where i gaze out    
     transfixed    
at its larger than    
     life size image    
of a tropical waves    
     perfect form    
and color  flawlessly    
     peeling over    
a shallow  coral reef  
    
     such sacred    
moments still fill    
     mesmeric corners    
of my distant    
     memories  where    
even as now    
     its as if    
i am there    
     though only    
in my mind  
   
     then it    
momentarily    
     occurs to me    
am i not also    
     a scientist    
displaced in    
     my daydreams    
sudden distraction    
     and am i not    
also  sitting here    
     in my own    
little  private    
     inner world  
unwittingly    
     presenting a dull    
bored air    
     to all here    
in this bus    
     around me    
as if life    
     will not truly    
begin again    
     until i can    
get back out  
     on my surfboard    
on a wave    
     in the ocean  
    
suddenly  i notice    
     in my own    
inner thoughts    
     here in this    
private conversation    
     with myself    
that i too    
     sound like an    
intentional vehicle    
     out of this moment    
as if now and    
     being on this bus    
are only a    
     tolerable oblivion    
where i also    
     seem to be    
successfully staying  
     just ahead    
of myself    
   
     but of course  
i realize here    
     once again  
that despite    
     all my unspoken    
opinions and  
     ungrounded    
wild assumptions    
     these thoughts  
and impressions    
     may only be    
my peculiar    
     observations    
and unfounded    
     misjudgments    
based only    
     on appearances  
            
though presently  
     here  its hard    
to tell for sure    
   
     for what equation    
do i hold    
     within my    
cellular knowledge    
     of that turquoise    
and emerald    
     symmetrically    
imploding    
     translucent    
liquid  hollow mother    
     phenomena  
   
am i too  not    
     a god   forgotten    
and even in    
     this brief memory    
of lucid  personal  
     experience    
does not the truth    
     of a privileged    
child  still yet    
     exist in me  
and am i    
     this child    
in one derment    
     still not a    
sacred child    
     of this living    
universe  once so      
     blissfully lost    
in its whirling    
     gods eye    
liquid wombs    
     and only    
just now  slowly    
     remembering    
that i am   still    
     its transcendent    
heartbeat    
     momentarily  
at least  refound    
     an integral part    
of the very    
     essence  of its    
cosmic soul  
     a mere fiber    
presently torn out    
     of its ineffable    
weave  cast down    
     here into this bus    
getting slightly    
     carried away    
perhaps  in my    
     way too vigorous    
inner thoughts    
     yet whose spirit    
still beats as    
     wildly as ever    
with its pure    
     raw  passionate    
lust  for such    
     a reunion    
at last  with    
     this living    
universe  again    
     or in the    
very least  perhaps    
     more meaningful    
time  with the sea  
      
     different  in a    
mirrored sort of    
     way  i guess    
though still somewhat    
     stale in my    
unbondaged    
     incompletion    
and in the    
     way i strive    
to sustain    
     my own public    
illusion of    
     discontentment    
hyper alert    
     in an aura    
of somewhat unstable    
     confidence    
remote and    
     naturally insular  
      
rethinking these    
     strange thoughts    
and in noticing    
     these things    
i suspect and  
     realize  yet again  
that despite    
     all my unspoken    
opinions and  
     ungrounded  
wild assumptions    
     these thoughts    
and impressions  
     may only be    
my peculiar    
     observations    
and unfounded    
     misjudgments    
based only    
     on appearances  
   
this couple    
     on the bus    
still both occasionally    
     glance over    
at me here  
     where i am    
at least a little    
     more conscious    
now  that i too    
     am projecting a dull    
bored air  to all    
     here on this    
bus around me    
     as if life    
will not truly    
     begin again    
until i can    
     get back out  
on my surfboard  
     on a wave    
in the ocean  
   
     then i begin    
to wonder  just    
     what is really    
going on here  
     beyond the mere    
surface appearance    
     of things  
could this perhaps  
     possibly be    
some sort of    
     subtle  social game    
of who can project    
     the most effective    
air of dull boredom                  
     or is it only me    
and my overly    
     twisted imagination  
acting up again  
   
     still  despite  
and beyond  
     the fact of    
all my unspoken    
     opinions and  
ungrounded    
     wild assumptions  
all these thoughts  
     of my peculiar    
observations and    
     unfounded    
misjudgments  
     based only on  
appearances here  
     the bus growls on      
into and through  
     this present    
tolerable oblivion  
     further on into    
the ever mysterious    
     grand  sublime    
continuum  in a    
     seemingly    
never ending    
     convolution    
of appearances