his wizened face gave way
to a wobbly smile
full of broken piano teeth
yellowed from nicotene
worn from that cup of coffee
just black
he'd purchased from his favorite
conveinance store down the corner
I sat beside him on the piss stained
bench
inside that crowded bus shelter
its plexiglass sides stained from
smudged finger prints and the
pressing of breath
as I chatted idly about my dreams
the woman next to him
turned kindly and prided me
for my going to school
and that moment was so perfect
that watery sun spilling across
the landscape like runny egg yolk
opened the possiblities of new stories
emerging from each of us
waiting for that g******** bus
in the middle of winter
I felt different
the old man slurped down his black
coffee in that stryfoam cup and directed
his attention toward the soaring landscape
the broken lines clotting the endless highway
and he said, "My bus is here."
I let him off
and slipped him a cigarette
his smile
so heartbreaking flawed
but so beautiful
as he mouthed the
words thank you
and hurried on.