with enough power to kill us both.
Five silver poles run
from floor to ceiling, supporting
only one rider on an empty bus.
Four seats against the wall
are folded up for lack of use,
flattened against the back of the bus.
Three more stops until I’m home
and I put my headphones on
to cancel out the quiet.
Seconds pass as the driver
waits just long enough for
someone new to jump on.
By the time we’ve reached my stop,
I leave the bus but wait on the concrete
too long; I watch it flash past me,
one face pressed to the glass.