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 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