I am an ordinary person
named ordinarily, and
born of ordinary build,
ordinary character,
ordinary interest,
being ordinary to some other
ordinary people, sometimes
being forgotten. Most of the time
my name is the one
sitting in the front row
of the upper deck of the bus—
unless my ordinary name
is being asked. The bus is always
going through a tunnel. And
no one realizes it’s always been
going through the tunnel.
I still don’t know if it will
eventually go through it
and whether it will end in sun
or rain. It’s just not right.
The tunnel’s darkness,
is so comfortable that
you can’t stop sleeping.
I set fire to my book
with a red slogan-cover
and walk downstairs.
Holding this torch in my hand,
I ask the driver to drop me off.
He is very scared.

I hop off. The rear lights
of the bus quickly diminishes.
Fire flickering, four sides
around me dimly illumined.
I turned sideways and saw
a few other ordinary faces.
Then, more.