=Bus Stops=

Bus stops are the perfect place
to fall in love, whether just two of us,
among a crowd, or on a passing bus.

Waiting turns into surreptitious
glances for a glance, as buses slip past
and turning heads chance upon each other.

Everything else came in threes and twos,
but one came along and hopped aboard
with a broken reverie and tempted smile.

Railings are precariously balanced
under butts whilst seats are shunned.
They'll fall off when Godot comes.

All the while we've been gossiping
before he comes- (about him, naturally)
Comrades-in-waiting, ladies-in-arms.
Oh, did we just miss our bus?

A face by a window flashes and wills.
Turn your head. Stop the bus. Come aboard.
Should I call? Lost child of the curb.
Why did I miss that stop? Press the bell.

We must disembark from this merry-go-round.
Just a little higher, or further, or longer,
Let all the horses run wild, one by one.

What is your favorite bus stop?
Home, or town, or some middling stop?
Mine is wherever you are.

Go away. Hop on and off random buses.
We'll meet. We'll part. We'll seat. We'll start.
Connect the dots and you'll find...