Bu(llet)s

It was the sort of day I could have ignored, overslept, snored.
Unable to recall, in fact, details of a fall. My phone did not ring

to wake me up to challenges of a to-do list. Were the clouds
to assault the sky? Or unable to stay or go?

I rush to a bus while its doors are air-powered open. Dozens of us
push to get a ride. Can't hammer your way through windows.

Stuck in traffic jams? Man, this is a whole-day stay
in an air-conditioned bus! That makes angry or hungry or both.

Honk the horn. Get those electronic eyes catch details of inconsequential
conversations but the most important question - are we there yet?

When I got home, the lines were blurred by hungry stomachs. And so it was.
The rain was a precedent. It poured outside like a hail of bullets.