Late Bus

I'm on the 44 again and it's late. The sun set long ago and the dark of night waits patiently just outside the bus window. Inside this metal box it's warm and smells faintly of urine and body odor. The 44 always smells like this. This route uses some of the oldest buses in the city. The seats hold the scent of previous occupants like a sponge soaks up spilled coffee. Only this sponge has yet to be wrung out and replaced.

I watch people and notice that no one is watching anyone else. They look straight ahead, look down, play with their phones, their ipods, read books or magazines. I look at them not looking at me and wonder who they are and what their lives hold for them.

I wonder when they are going to lay these old, rickety steal boxes to rest.


Blogger Dorit said...

Hi Corey, I know this sceneries in the bus and train. Mostly people just stare into the dark and I stare at them, they even don't notice that. But it's good for me, so I can watch them how they look and behave, how they talk, and use it for my stories ;-I.
Best greetings from Scotland. I'm traveling again. Tomorrow we will join a guided tour to Loch Lomond.

2:12 PM  
Blogger Corey said...

Good to get a message from you Dorit. Nice to know im not alone in my bus observations. and those stories you create while riding buses and watching people are beautiful. keep watching, keep listening, keep writing.

2:31 PM  

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