Oct 09 2011

Published by at 3:49 am under Uncategorized

I cross the congested street to get to the Q76 bus stop to find it completely devoid of any human existence, well, that’s nothing out of the ordinary. A bird flies out of the tree branch hanging above my head and I find myself alone with my thoughts. I notice that the sidewalk is lined with cars; you can’t park a car in front of the bus stop sign, I wanna yell out, but there is no one around to hear me. Oh, they have a match, no wonder there are so many cars parked here today. Jeez, they even got cheerleaders; these girls are seriously living a suburban life. I glance at my watch, it’s 5:00p.m., and…yup, here they come. For the past week I have been dreading their arrival and here they are, dressed in their soccer uniforms on a day when I have one of my infamous headaches, no less. Its 5:09 and I walk up and down the sidewalk, once again listening to their conversation; “the bus is here!” says one of them. I glance up and sure enough there it is; my chariot awaits me.

 

I climb onto the bus and I’m almost instantly drawn to him, to the boy in the front seat. He is wearing a white shirt that hugs his body and shows off his arms, the ends of his worn-out jeans, that I imagine are riding dangerously low on his hips, are gathered around his yellow Timberlands. There is nothing particular about his face but I’m attracted to the rich, golden color of his skin. He folds his arms across his chest, tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes in a fruitless attempt to take a nap, meanwhile the soccer-playing high school girls proceed to the rear of the bus in all their loud and obnoxious glory. My sun-kissed boy picks up his head and glances in the direction of the giggling, a look of annoyance crosses his face; I know, I answer him as if we could communicate telepathically, they piss the shit out of me as well.

 

It’s 5:20, someone signals the bus to stop; the girls get off and a third grade Spanish boy with his mom get on board and unfortunately for my golden boy, wedge into the seat between him and the woman on the other end. I look at my boy and the kid sitting side by side and think how in a crazy, ironic twist or perhaps another lifetime they could actually be brothers. The boy gives it another shot at sleep but its useless, this kid is all over the place: asking his mom a hundred question, taking papers out of his backpack and the periodic bumping of the arm against the boy’s right arm. At one point I start to smile and realize that this kid is being just that, a kid. My boy doesn’t seem to care about that, I bet I wouldn’t either if I were in his shoes right about now. It’s 5:25, I take a glimpse at my boy and step off the bus; as the distance between us increases, I want to reach out to him and tell him that I understand how he feels. Instead the bus doors close and I’m left far behind.      

 

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  1.   Haleyon 21 Oct 2011 at 1:50 pm

    He sounds like a hottie I hope you get to see him again 🙂

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