Wearing glasses as the ghost bus approaches

[squirmelia]

I sometimes mistake people for buses when they're by the trees. Waiting to see a flicker of blue and yellow, I often flag down the wrong bus. I have glasses now, so I will wear them while waiting for buses. I’m worried that what I saw before was REALITY, my reality, and the glasses are actually distorting my vision as if they were sunglasses with coloured lenses. I’m worried that I’ll get addicted to them, that I will not want to stop wearing them, that I’ll prefer the unreal seeming way that things look. Everything looks like it’s in a photograph now, except me, my face looks more wizened when I stare in the mirror.

The temperature at the bus-stop has risen, so not all my thoughts are concerned with hoping the bus turns up before my fingers turn blue. I gazed instead at the bus going in the opposite direction, a beautiful collage of dark blue, light blue and yellow, with smatterings of adverts, white in colour, all set against a dark blue/black sky, and the lights on the bus glowing.

The day after that, the bus turned white. A ghost of a bus. I didn't want to blink, but imagined my eyelids flickering instead.

Comments

[squirmelia.livejournal.com]

Some kind of mix-up:

It was those times that night, and in the sun, reflecting bitumen and black flyers? Nah. Slumping towards me, and I wonder whether that boy still walks up before my fingers turn blue. I gazed instead at the bus, noticing the shadows that nature might simply decide not to wake up and read a book called 'Electric Dreams'.