Then you'll set out with your sack and your killing twine. The feeling surprised at the first waiting person, who doesn't look at the new two at all. Tumors, too, were friends, waiting at the bus stop with backpacks in the morning. They tell me about their upcoming schedule or what happened the day before. There he was, a sight for sore eyes. The noticing someone else arrive. I would feel a lot safer if I had someone to sit with me.
The thinking: what if we take a taxi with the four of us. The thinking: where are they all, they must come back this way eventually. I would gladly have him for my lover. The thinking that now it is actually high time to take a taxi. Its been a long night, Its been a long fight.
Dance on the table, Tommy, while away the night, till a clear moon rises and the stars add their light. My father always referred to going to the lavatory which, by the way, was at the bottom of the garden! The seeing full taxis passing by. The thinking: I might as well have taken the first taxi. I've waited all this time for nothing if I take a taxi now. The wondering where the others are going.
Others at the bus-stop heard the boom. I told him if he was waiting on a bus, he was welcome to have a seat next to me. He came into my life at just the right time, right when I needed him. The imagining how far six minutes walking — The deciding that it stinks. Each word Left a scar. Now that they are older, I even let them stay home alone.
The imagining how the bus will drive past before I have reached the next stop. The imagining of a blood-smeared empty taxi. The thinking that walking warms one up. The sizing up of them unobtrusively. When he kissed me it felt so good.
The guessing what these two do together. Still, there we were at the bus stop, two strangers, there just for a short time, but making the most of the night. There I was, sitting with a stranger outside after dark. The seeing that it is not a bus, but a large truck. The noticing two other people arrive at the bus-stop. Late nights on street corners Protecting urban borders Claiming blocks for blood Selling rocks for what? The thinking: is that the bus? The thinking that now it is actually high time to take a taxi.
The calculating that this would be less expensive than owning a car. The thinking: where are they all, they must come back this way eventually. The guessing what these two do together. He had me going crazy. When I walk with my kids in the morning, I feel connected to them.
We were two strangers who became more than friends. The remembering of parents who never took a taxi. The imagining of an enormous traffic jam in the distance. I've only just got here. I had no idea my waiting at the bus stop would turn into a night like this.
The forbidding oneself to look to see if bus is coming. Still somehow our words managed to come out right. Make of it whatever you will. But now its time to depart, While I'm here waiting at the bus stop. And the Lords and the Gamekeepers, who heard his passing bell, will be there at his funeral to say their last farewell.
It was just too hard for me to resist. Now when they come home from school, they both barely utter a greeting as they sprint straight to their rooms. The waiting for a taxi. There he was a delightful surprise. The not noticing that the bus has come.