walking toward the bus stop/the Altgeld one with trees shading over brick and concrete pavement/bordered by black wrought iron/and on my way there i saw a man positively strolling/just enjoying the sunlight and October warmth/he held a glass of cola in his left hand/not a bottle/not a plastic bottle/not a platic cup/not a styrofoam cup/but a glass with ice cubes and everything/and why the hell not?
i see the bus/sitting at the stop sign/going nowhere/i step around to the door/and see a drunk/comfortable on the top step/bottle in bag/smile on his face/the driver just looks at me/so i say - there's another bus coming, right? - /before she can answer/the drunk yells - what the fuck do you want? - /without thinking i scream back - i aint talking to you! - /the driver says nothing and the drunk yells again - get out of here - /and i scream back - shut the fuck up! - /and you know what?/he shuts up/he shuts the fuck up
on the ride north to suburbia/a pair of mittens/left behind by a girl/in full I-pod armor/unaware of drunks and curses and stranded buses/are rescued by/an Eastern European man/he pantomimes to the driver/in bruised English/and the driver motions out his window/and the girl gets tapped on the shoulder/she smiles and comes back for the mittens/the Eastern European man smiles/to his fellow passenger/the driver winks in the rear-view mirror/and i concur
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