It’s not even a bad ride.
The bus doesn’t smell of bodily fluids; no traffic impedes the way.
Ahead, a shower of sparks illuminates the silhouettes of overpass workers.
Urban rains splash on greasy sidewalks,
churning bubbles that slip down puddles.
Other drivers crawl along slick streets,
peering out as grainy, low-resolution snapshots of themselves
through speckled screens.
Chattering and silent passengers depart the metropolis together.
Falling asleep while a stranger drives is a strong show of trust,
performed by many aboard.
But not me.
A passing liquor billboard ad says,
“POUR YOUR SOUL OUT”
Droplets strung in the windows cast tiny, translucent shadows
that slide around the caravan space like ghosts of bugs.
The haunted long for sunshine,
but she is still miles away.
— subset —
after the shower, shadows slide
speckled streets smell strong
sunshine says, “show soul, stranger”
but slick silhouettes slip past, splash the sidewalks
strung out on snapshots and screens
still, she sparks
*I realized there were quite a few “s” words in the original piece, so I decided to quickly write something random using each of them while minimizing additional words.