Transit Center Stop:
A man tap, tap, tapping
a polished shoe.
Four people listening
to the beat, beat, beats
of a cherished ipod.
Fred Meyer Stop:
A father loading
one, two, three bags of groceries,
the all telling exhausted
eye-contact.
Burger King Stop:
The tough spike of gelled hair clashing
the soft touch of
pure skin revealed.
Plaid Pantry Stop:
An overpowering stench
of controlling cigarettes
staining the clothing
of an oderless soul.
YMCA Stop:
The sour taste of
fake laughter,
a sweet kiss to rectify
a long day.
PSU Stop:
The inspiring, naive smile
of a mentally ill woman
shot down by the judging
tatoos and piercings of
a realistic society.