When a Swiss bus begs a water body to talk.
PIXABAYBus breaks down driver calls travel company uncountably in five languages hold sir please hold puffing frustration like a cigar unlit we slouch in our seats tired of being in one place inside without open windows we rise recklessly we take off running sneakers crunching gravel like a sandwich at the beach We’ll be here for hours in the middle of Switzerland folks by a colossal body of reflection, bruised purple water ebbing the cracked caramel enamel boat dock without any boats while we stem the lake with our fingers sitting on the dock’s hairless chin dreaming of pumpkin chocolate coated in orange wrapper stirring the chilly water like a steaming cocoa bean fountain boys grunting pushing the bus uphill suddenly backs arched and teething while we continue to sit stir promise the water we’ll be back sometime in our lives even though we know we won’t we’ll have children someday some Swiss? maybe? we’ll have a house far away we’ll never be here again in this spot of such thirst in a lake praying for visitors to actually visit with its liquified open hands in a lake hoping someone might whisper to the water: We’ll visit you in winter when your face is frozen lake lips so soft in snow you could ice skate across its stretched skin forever
