Like blood running through
the city’s veins,
and its arteries in a grid.
We feed its heart/ we are its pulse
fragile bundles of will
layered in fleece and goose down
skin tones from ivory to bronze,
medley of languages
in routine exchanges of politeness.
Tic-tac-toe in the terminal
checkers with the empty seats
private purpose/ hearts on sleeves
protagonists in disparate destinies
our personal spaces like sacraments.
Eyes on your phone
Eyes to the window
counting stops and starts
our shared ride a synchronicity
of movement with no deliberate design,
this prism of steel and laminated glass
a petri dish of stories
rolling on a straight line
come snow or fair weather.
“Bus Stop – Chicago” by photographer Domenico Landolfo