Bus Report #902
This morning as I walked to catch the 33, I saw our neighborhood Recology guy, Ryan, twice and we greeted each other over the din of his truck. We waved and mouthed, "Good morning!" and continued on our separate (but slightly tandem) ways.
The mysterious door that leads up to the wet suit landing was open, warm yellow light spilling into the dark street.
At the bus stop stood the Axe body spray guy. This morning he said, "Hello, good morning," and I was surprised how soft his voice sounded.
The bus arrived and we got in, and soon we were flying down Arguello and then up to the Haight.
In front of Haight Street Market there were four delivery trucks double-parked with Tetris perfection. The bus squeezed past them and turned right to climb the hill.
None of the Ashbury regulars were waiting this morning. Curious.
In the Castro, in front of the bank, a dozen candles still burning brightly to honor the memory of David Bowie. A classic Bowie photo affixed to the fence above them.
Nearby, two bouquets of flowers and more photos of someone else's lost loved one.
The mysterious door that leads up to the wet suit landing was open, warm yellow light spilling into the dark street.
At the bus stop stood the Axe body spray guy. This morning he said, "Hello, good morning," and I was surprised how soft his voice sounded.
The bus arrived and we got in, and soon we were flying down Arguello and then up to the Haight.
In front of Haight Street Market there were four delivery trucks double-parked with Tetris perfection. The bus squeezed past them and turned right to climb the hill.
None of the Ashbury regulars were waiting this morning. Curious.
In the Castro, in front of the bank, a dozen candles still burning brightly to honor the memory of David Bowie. A classic Bowie photo affixed to the fence above them.
Nearby, two bouquets of flowers and more photos of someone else's lost loved one.
posted by Rachel at 8:38 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home