THE ARCHIVES: Chapter 14

The Bus

I crumpled myself
into a sweaty blue seat,
pressed my cheek
against cold, smeared glass,
and waited for the roar
of the diesel engine.
I heard him
step onto the bus…
almost as if I’d
memorized the sound
of his footsteps,
remembered exactly how he walks.
He walks carefully,
deliberately. Was it
with that same deliberation
that he chose to sit beside me?
He took a book
from his bag and began to read.
I thought I saw him look at me
from the corner of his eye.
I hoped I saw him look at me.

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