Bus carries the wind with its windows wide open.
The wind is well quantified and clean.
"See, everything can be measured accurately."
Parsec, hectare, and sievert.
Once subjectivity is removed, things are equally visualized.
To be equally helpless -- everything starts from there.
The math teacher with round glasses continues to write, saying,
"but "
We surely won't remember his words anymore,
that something beautiful like noises.
No alarms' going off yet.

Even trusts and fears can be rightly measured.
Let's quantify them in common units.
Imagine,
put the puzzle of visible issues on the dead grass,
and just sit across from each other.
It's a little windy as we are all imperfect obstacles,
like withering of dead plants and shadows cast in the hollows.
We're on the bus however, where safe, secure, clean
and quiet purr of the engine sounds,
shattered round glasses were laid on the floor.
People along the road hold up a blank paper to cover their mouths.
Listening to invisible voices is poor value for time,
So, OK, please shut the window.
No alarms' going off yet.

Daydreaming is just right for you.
Smile coldly like a still life that has never had a life.
Then we washed off the mud at the parking area in morning haze.

That's when the alarm has finally gone off.
Sensitivity left behind on the bus beeped the steering wheel horn strongly.
Poet had escaped into the lyricism for a long time suddenly jump up
as if remembering something important,
and rush out without a glance at the clock.
"Open your eyes."
The amazing dawn is breaking.