Waiting for a Jeepney amidst the rush hour is like waiting for rightful love
gleaming lights that blind you pass by as each rusty groan sound floats in the busy air;
and your heart hopefully scans signage of Kamuning, Project 4, Bambang or Cubao Yale
yet an unknown force secretly injects distaste on every possibility and or opportunity;
seats too constricted,
old worn out machine,
windows too small,
driver from hell,
passengers from hell (or at least “seem”),
or even the desperate thought of ” i’ll find it or it will find me”
The city slowly fades into a trance together with the patience and hope you have had few minutes ago
last count. last Jeepney. last breathing chance.
so wished you had a taxi instead.