Have you ever waited at a bus stop? I’m not talking about 10 or 15 minutes either. I’m talking about waiting. I’m talking about regretting not wearing ear muffs Or the gloves that fit better Or the boots that don’t let the cold or wet in Or the coat that does more than fail at keeping the wind out. Waiting. 30, 45, 60 minutes past the time it was due Blasting music in your ears to keep the strange old guys With whiskey spit and starving eyes away Shifting impatiently from one freezing foot to the other Watching the steam from your breath float away from you as you sigh with disdain, with boredom, with resignation. Evil eyeing the cars that speed by bringing puffs of cold wind to slap you in the face as if they are teasing you Rubbing it in that there is a quicker, warmer way to your destination that you can not afford, can not attain, can not. Have you ever waited at a bus stop?
image by Cindel Oh