My iPod sings to me,
Its white façade disguising something truly beautiful,
Years of music,
House sitting peaceably next to the Rocket Man,
Kylie Minogue next to Beethoven,
I’m sure he’d have liked that.
A lady steps into the seat next to me,
Hm, red shirt,
I’m wearing blue today…
She looks bored, then again I’m typing poetry next to her,
Nothing more boring than a person who thinks he has something to prove,
Working on the bus,
Tsk, insane little Adidas wearing boy.
He’s hugging her close,
And she’s typing a message out,
Furiously like a good Singaporean girl,
Must be to her mom,
I’m not coming home Ma,
Need to go study with Jonas.
He’s also listening to his iPod, older model though,
Wearing red too, and slightly chubby like me,
And a bit of a air-guitarist as well. Heheh. Aren’t we all,
Oo, the red lady next to me has started humming.
Half the bus is sleeping on this Sunday afternoon,
How nice though, a siesta on the bus.
I mean as if the bumping wasn’t pleasant enough,
You have snores to provide a delightful leitmotif.
I wonder about Mr Kang,
Is he feeling any better,
Will call him later, and ask.
Oh god, a boy is jumping around,
MOM, SIT HIM DOWN,
If he dies and you complain to the bus company,
I’ll testify on behalf of the bus company,
That YOU didn’t sit his ass down.
I want to buy Guitar Hero 2 for the 360.
Mmmm, the bread smell is delish…
Oh crap bus stop coming. TTYL zOMGs WtFBBQ!