Gold, Triangle, Two Lines

(This is the most recent piece in a project that begins here.)

I wait for the bus to move
It may have only just stopped
Or it has been stopped for some time
I realise it is moving
I expect bumps, a rocking motion
Nothing
I stop expecting them
Outside there is a suburb indistinguishable from any other suburb
House after house
A fence
No fence
A parked car
Lawn
No lawn
Overgrown lawn
Dirt
Then a jolt and the edge of my forehead bumping loudly against the glass
I straighten
Lift one hand and press the palm against the head
Nothing
Close my eyes
Open
I wait for the bus to move
A woman walks from the front door towards me
When she sees me she stops
Awkward
Blinks
Opens her mouth and inhales
Nothing
I lower my hand to my thigh
Nothing
She turns around
Stumbles and then is gone
I turn to the window and the houses pass by
They begin to collide into one-another
Bending and splintering
Pushing one-another away slightly
Rebounding and drifting away from greater force
Look down at my feet
Shoes
Move one toe back towards the heel of the other foot
Press and push
Resistance
Bend at the waist
Fingers hollow and dusty as they pad at my ankles
The top of the foot
Laces
Blink
Pull
Pad over the foot and pull at the bridges of material
The shoe loosens
Toe at the heel and push
The shoe taps against the floor of the bus
Repeat
The rocking and bumping of the bus
Straighten
The bus doesn’t move
– Is there a rule?
— A what?
But the bus is moving
– Oh.
I turn and look at him sitting across the aisle
His dark shape fitted to the chair
Looking at me
He looks away
Pausing, panning his head
The eyes disappear and their reflection appears in the glass, pale, translucent
I feel tired
I don’t know what it is and the query is set in motion
Momentum carrying it from one slow place to the next
A feeling of entering sleep
And to exit it
— Why can’t I sleep?
– Hm?
I open my mouth
I don’t know why I would ask him
Then I forget that I asked
Look forward to the drivers seat
Empty
Outside the houses begin to move