I stand and wait for the 115
Or 15 bus to arrive
It's cold, I blow an icy vapour with every breath

A sea of umbrellas
Hoodies
Raincoats
Dreary faces

Longing for freer times
since fleeting, since forgotten, since lost
Pudless stepped in without hesitation
Or avoided with passive agression

Like their lives
Like ours

The water adresses what we can (could)
not