a spy

Every morning I see this guy
standing at the same bus stop as I am,
waiting for a same bus as I am.

He always wears a perfectly fitted suit,
carries an expensive leather briefcase.

His eyes are always hiding behind the sunglasses,
even when it is raining,
always looking at some undefined spot.

(nowhere)

Always on time.

I call him “a spy”.

I am sure nobody cares about him,
but I was always curios about what does he do.

This morning I learned
that he always takes this bus
to the mental clinic
where he receives his treatments every day.


Now I am wandering what people may think of me,
while I am standing at the bus stop
and flapping my wings of silver and bronze
from time to time.

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