Paul sat with a woman
at the bus stop.

They were with each other
without being with each other.

Unbeknownst to each of them
they shared a destination.

Paul heard the woman’s feet
complain about blisters.

The woman heard Paul’s feet
complain about blisters as well.

They both stared forward
not really acknowledging the other.

Christmas lights across the street
decked out Santa and his Sleigh.

There were reindeer too.
But no Rudolph with his red nose.

Paul and the woman cocked their heads
at the sound of a siren.

Snow began to fall.
More flakes landed on Paul.

The woman did not notice
this unfair distribution.

The bus arrived and splashed
snow melt onto the curb.

Paul let the woman enter the bus first.
There were plenty of open seats.

The bus driver paid Paul no mind once he paid.
He sat two rows in front of the woman.

A sign advertised the Frida Kahlo exhibit
at the art museum on the lake front.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

On Schedule

A girl on a bus stop bench cries and kicks her legs outward
and connects with several city transit underwriters.

The marvel is that no one offered comfort or solace.
Not even a candy bribe for the girl to desist.

If only it were a literary enterprise and not real life
with minds churning through business calculations

to leapfrog hours to lunch at an oyster bar
or the drudgery of strip club cleaning before hours.

No one thinks of a miracle or invokes God
at least not in a positive manner.

With the arrival of the bus
the girl ceases her tears and kicking.

She believes her tantrum caused it to arrive all the quicker
when actually it was exactly on time.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney