birthday thoughts on the bus

Friendship will be the worst thing to have happened to me by then. On the bus I'd wondered through which screen I'd fallen through, and which one I had fallen out of, and which was replacing me in the reflections past midnight. You will meet your past with loved company and I will mine alone. Less than one year halved, a third of which is already gone. By its end the ocean will be bare again with her own tides, the swimmers gone home to their wives and mistresses, a long vacation spent.