The downtown line
is the Number Two bus.
It lurches forward
and bodies sway with the clutch
of the Number Two bus.
Home to the homeless
(bags of belongings between their feet)
they’re out of the rain for the length
of the route.
Seattle is tolerant of her homeless.
They don’t have to pay to ride the Number
Two Bus.
A homeless man boards with a jug of
eggnog
and he holds it in his lap like a baby.
Everyone looks at his gallon of eggnog.
What a sensible homeless man
with a sensible breakfast he grips with his thumb.
Commuters and senior citizens,
tourists and homeless all share the bus,
the dependable, rollicking Number Two
bus.
You
dropped your smile, a hard-to-place cad
(doesn’t fit in a niche)
says to the girl who boards with a backpack.
He smirks as she looks down and around.
Unflappably cool, she buries her face in
a book
but he got her to look,
and the homeless, the commuters, and the
tourists
all laugh as the driver lets out the
clutch
of the Number Two bus.
Written on our pre-covid trip to Seattle, which now seems like the good 'ol days, brought out of hiding by dVerse's prompt to write about a smile, (a smirk, a laugh?) maybe my ride on the Number Two Bus fits into the niche. Check out all the talent at dVerse when you have an extra minute!
TGIF!!!