Bandaged Buses

O bandaged buses! The wounds of time have taken their toll on your hard metal exoskeleton, leaving the gutted remains of an abysmal inside pilfered by the wind and carried far from home, the carcass abandoned to rot yet placed neatly into organized lines for the sake of careful observation by blue costumed workers, closured tightly within high sparkling barbed fences, waiting and decaying.

Graveyard of another era, preserve what you can, for as long as you can, until your eventual recycling into the next species to come, the new centipede like wheeled animals, wind themselves sinuously through our glistening paved streets into the promise of the future!


Decay quietly old vehicle of burden; the time of youth yearns desperately to sing its own swan song.