Monday, September 09, 2013

Bus Report #768

This morning, the sun was a neon red maraschino cherry, almost electric, and blinding.
I waited for the 22 with the construction worker who I can never understand. This morning, I think he was asking me for the time, so I gave it to him, and hoped it was what he wanted.
He smiled and pointed down Fillmore and said, "I see bus coming."
It was one of the clearest things I've ever heard him say.

A few stops later, the man who always smells like warm Ethiopian spices got on and sat beside me.
I took a deep breath and inhaled his spicy scent. It was earthy and hot and it settled in the middle of my chest for the duration of the ride. Today he wore a scarf wrapped around his head, something he I've noticed he does on cold days.

At the next stop, Mr. Taylor got out, but not before slowly raising his arm in a wave. A couple of us waved back, and he shuffled to the stairs and out of the bus.


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