Bus Report #800
As I waited to cross 16th Street, the driver of the 33 Stanyan across the street waved at me. It was my favorite driver, he of the natty cap, the dark glasses, the white-teeth smile. I waved back, and he gestured as if to ask if I wanted to ride a few blocks. I grinned and shook my head, waved again, and he was off.
The sky was layered blue over ocean green over beige sand. From where I stood after getting my coffee, I could see the lights of buildings downtown blinking on for the first time today.
Further down the street, closer to work, I saw two robins plucking crumbs off the sidewalk.
Last night, on the 19 Polk: A man got on the bus with a suitcase and a big, round, striped lollipop, the kind you always want when you're a little kid. He rolled his palms over the face of the lollipop, over and over, and then turned his left arm up exposing a smooth expanse of tanned forearm.
He jabbed the lollipop stick into his arm, turning the candy part as though he was turning a wind-up toy key.
I missed my stop, watching him, got out at Pacific and walked back a couple blocks to meet friends at It's A Grind.