We are behind our masks

but recognize humanity next to us

Eyes tell stories, sagas and series in shades

darkness makes reading more difficult

She asks me which number

I’m waiting for so I awaken to focus

We are travellers here and back

drawn to stand together in this littered space

I read the graffiti yesterday

or the day before but tonight I read it again

Which number are you waiting for

the woman asks as if I know

I listen to her story as stories needs telling

maybe it’s worse or better

I listen for hints of breakdown or sorrow

but she is factual despite

Tomorrow she will ride again she says

ride every day for eternity and her grandson

We are the riders of the bus

grateful for mundane recurring schedules

We are the quiet constant vigil keepers

careful not to wish for a break in the pattern