The bus

I have seen to many American movies. With mean taxi drivers. Bad people. So I refuse to take a taxi. I go for the bus. I mean, there ain't no movie where the bus driver doesn't take you home. At least - not by my knowledge.

So here I stand. On a rainy day. Getting on a packed bus.

"Well, there you are again." Says the old man next to me.
I look at hem with a kind of suprise.
It is my first time on the bus.
But he smiles. So I return that. With my broad smile.
It makes him happy I'm back again. And I have no interest to break his day.

Will Smith sits on the other side of me.
Teaching his son to read. Bus publicity.
S-y-p-h-i-l-i-s, he spells.
Cause our bus drives from Castro. The gay area.
Education. I suppose.

In front of me a woman. In a bright yellow rain jacket.
With damp on her glasses.
She's talking to herself.
How she can not stand up to let others sit.
Because she has to carry her groceries.
And because she can't see anything.

A guy in a wheelwhair tries to get out.
His chair is slow. Low battery?
Can you not get up and hurry? yells a man.
He pulks his nose. And has clearly no clue what a wheelchair is for.

I help. So does another woman.
We seem to be the only ones not screaming.
Or talking to ourselves.

But I have to admit... I feel good on the bus.

At least my driver takes me home.