At the 206 bus stop I patiently wait
For the red bus that's always late.
I have now waited over an hour
And my mood is surely turning sour.

I crane my neck for the glimpse of that bus
Which, when moves makes ruckus.
I am excited by the noise of yonder thunder
Alas it turns out to be a school bus, oh what a blunder.

I'm tired, hungry and even ready for bed
Yet compelled to wait for the bus in red.
If only I had money for a three wheeler
Alas I can't afford it on my income meager.

My patience is put to a severe T-E-S-T
As I stoically wait for the B-E-S-T.
A serpentine queue has now formed
But come the bus its door will be stormed.

My hopes rise upon the sight of something red
Alas it's a bus of another route instead.
The hunger has traveled from stomach to mind
Can someone please a solution to this delay find?

At the 206 bus stop I patiently wait
For the red bus that's always late!

I fall in love everyday.
Either on the bus,
Or on the subway.

on the bus I am jittery

in my room I am not free

in my room I’m in, deep in

on the bus, I focus on what
he is not saying

in my room, I build his thought
from words that don’t exist yet.

on the bus, I’m foreign
I feel separated like I’m the one going

I play
it
safe in my room.

I want to step out

I want to leave the room
when I get back on the bus.

he says nothing,
his mouth isn’t moving.

the only thing going is the bus.

The first time I missed a bus
I ran down the street
Behind the bus that was fading away
Gradually
I cried shamelessly
While still chasing the bus down

I still miss buses
I still run down the street
I don't cry anymore about it though
Guess I have grown up

Loud music is playing in the bus. People talking and laughing. Are they talking about me. Laughing at me. ****. I start to panic. My heart is racing. It's time to face it. The voices inside my head are fighting. I black out. Face down. **Snap.

all i want is enough time
to ****** you with my silver
tongue
but the time keeps biting my back
until i edge ways I never wanted to
sleep all day
a lonely thought: someday

feed me?
you could feed me, as long as
i can stare at you with half-lidded windows
to bring you closer as you
spoon-feed me Nutella
or peanut butter
or anything
as long as it's
you on the handle

I'll drive you anywhere, baby
I just don't have a car

So I'll be your drive, everywhere baby
Think of me when you can't see
hold me close when you can't breathe
even though you're over there
and I'm still alone

It's raining.
Soft, cool knees hunched up against your chest,
Sitting there in a flowing skirt and knitted vest,
Quiet, at rest,
But you looked distressed, you look depressed,
Your momma knows your house is gonna get repossessed
Cigarette against your lips, unlit.
You look surprised the bus driver doesn't make you
Put it away,
But I pretend I can't see you
Watching night turn to day, your dismay on display
Hiding like a stray dog from memories of your mother's new fiancé
Last Father's Day when you tried to run away.
Well, now you're trying again.
You look weary, bone-tired and thinking about
All you admired, desired, dreams that
Expired and retired and why can't you see all the love
You've inspired?
I want to talk to you, walk with you,
Your skin is too pale, like chalk
I don't want your momma to hear that knock,
Empty face crumpling in shock,
People flock around you where you hit the rock,
The clock ran out for you.
Young ******* the ***** floor, feel like
No one adores you,
Feel hurt down to the core,
I tell you "This is your stop,"
You walk out the door.
I know I'm never gonna see you any more.
And next week, the weather's bleak,
I'm on break, I see your face on the newspaper,
Went to seek Death's mystique.
Raindrops sting like vipers, snipers,
I get back on the bus,
Turn on the windshield wipers.
It's raining.

They sit in their
Wide neon cocoons,
Cozy and warm
With hot air
Dribbling out of vents
And swirling around their bodies.

A thin sheet of metal protects them from
Nine degree weather
And bone-freezing winds
And sheets of shivering ice.

And yet,
Every day at
Exactly
Six twenty-four in the morning
They come around
Like wide neon caterpillers
And slink toward where I stand,
Legs frozen to concrete.

Doors open,
Burning cold air rushes in
And rubs against them,
But they wait and smile
As I climb three tall stairs
And greet them,
Welcoming the nice hug of
Warmth
And
Coziness
And
Comfort
And love.

They love me,
A stranger.
They love me enough to
Rescue me from
Becoming an ice sculpture.

So I fumble with
The Thank You in my pocket
And ****** it toward them
In my haste.

It is enough for them.

His voice reminded me of night rain
Deep intelligence sprung from the core of his mind
and bloomed into words
and I could sit for hours
listening to the night rain fall
without understanding why a single drop fell
so far away from home
Maybe it’s the comfort of words washing away the doubt
that creeps in on the brightest of mornings
that would cause me to welcome
a somber night of rain
with open arms
And when the rain stops
-as it has before
I will continue
stepping out of bus shelters
without thinking twice
and leaving umbrellas alone and forgotten
in the coffee shop
on the nights when I need them most
If I should be lucky enough
to feel again
I will speak in the night rain
to the lost souls hiding
in the bus shelters and forgotten umbrellas
looking out at the rain drops
and wondering why each one falls
so far from home