he took the bus into the city
it was night
everyone aboard looked ill coloured by the ugly yellowishgreen light
that flickered inside
it was a light meant to be
nightlight like in a lavatory meant to light the inside of the bus it wasnt there to read by
he complained to company that if
the lighting aboard was better and people could read their newspapers and
magazines or books ridership might increase
the company told him nobody
reads It’s transportation.
I read he said into the telephone
Good for you, chum. If you prefer, you
can walk too.
Whats your name please
Joe Blow. and he hung up
he worked his way to the back of
the bus once he boarded
the driver didnt wait
the door closed with a bitchy
pneumatic soundan abrupt CLANK and the
driver rolled
he didnt mind the game
the driver didnt know he rode
buses and trains most of his youth and spent a couple months every year
later at sea aint a damn
thing the chucklehead could throw at him that would rock him off his feet
unless he slammed on the brakes
he enjoyed the passage to the
rear of the bus
the characters the faces
the personalities the no-personalities those who kept their heads downnot wanting to meet his eyes or those who watchedwho sized him upwho
played with notions of shaking him down though the last time anyone tried to shake him down was a bald
pate a longbraided ponytail erupting
out the top of his skull orangerobed
Hare Krishna maggot
they got so thick in the city for a couple of summers while he attended City
College that he got their chant down pat
Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna,
Krishna, Krishna, Hare Hare.
Hare Rama, Hare Rama,
Rama Rama, Hare Rama.
he hadnt a fuckin clue what it
meant
baldysour with a braid thrust a
cup in his face Please, donate what you
can, whatever you can, even a penny isn’t too small, although it might speak to
the smallness of your heart and soul.
I dont think thats a legit part
to your pitch buddy Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare Tellya what if yamove it along yacan keep your
ponytail I got a collection Im from a long line of Indian fighters even if you dont look Indian But with just your hair nobody cares what
you looked like Even blue-eyed like you
Ya cats are nonviolent
Im not
a young woman raised her eyes to
his approach as he leanedturned his hipscounterbalanced the corner the driver
took
Mind if I sit beside you he asked
Please. Help yourself.
he sat Thank you
she smiled
You’re welcome.
he smiled
Evenin My names Joe
Joe. Hello. My name’s Florence.
Florence My pleasure Im sure
which elicited another broad
smile that amused him
You’re sure?
Im sureno doubt
What makes you so sure?
Your eyes Your composuresure Like that
Are you clever?
Maybe not so clever as I enjoy
playing with words Or perhaps you incite
me to try to be clever Florence
they got along famously
he saw his stop was
approaching Stop after next is me Would you mind if I asked for your number or
address
she smiled a bittersweet smile No. Unfortunately not.
I cant see you again
No. I’m sorry.
they hit it off she reciprocated Well Im disappointed he said I wont ask why
Do you want to ask why?
I dont ask why I respect your decision your reasons No is good with me
Thank you.
Youre welcome
Yes. Thank you very much. I’ve really enjoyed our thirtyforty minutes.
Florence he held his hand out to her
she grasped it quicklyheld it to
her breastdropped her eyes
she lifted her eyes again when
the bus driver called out his stop she released his hand
her eyes were wet
I’m not of age, Joe. I live with
my parents.
Well Florence Youre parents are doing a fine job raising
you he stood Im sure theyre very proud of you I thoroughly enjoyed talking with youenjoyed our time together too
Be well be happy Florence
the bus stopped the doors parted entering the bus
You too, Joe.
Yabetcha
he took the few steps up the
aisle and disembarked
he watched her watch him through
the window
as the bus slowly pulled away she
was obscured then he glimpsed hershe had
stood in the aisle worked her way to the rear window
he could see her plainly
she raised her hand a static goodbye
he raised his and held it up until the bus went around the corner out of sight
it was an illuminating gap of
time
Florences faceher penetrating green eyes fixed in his
memory the turn of her smile its left
corner higher than its right the directness of her eyes her brisk honesty
he turned away from the streetaway
from her her brilliance yet pervading him
he walked a block to the
amusement park beside the river he
walked into the spasmodicpulsing and glitter of carnival lights their sinuous intoxication the strung lightbulbs quivered on the nights breath he listened to the
undaunted squeals and laughter their bright happinessslick against entreatiesbright
bubbles blown high into the sky from wideopen throats tearblinded eyes unfettered
joy
he paid a clown sitting inside the
barred Admissions booth
the clown was a she and she
pinned colouredpaper flowers to the lapel of his leatherfringed jacket
which made
him smile bemused him
thanking her and walking away he
rubbed his neckhis fingers working behind the collar under his long hair
the coolness off the river bled
through the rents his fingers made in his hair
then he dropped his hand shook
his head and the rents in his hair filled like hastilydrawn curtains
the amusement lights were
brilliant like blazing forges
walking up the sawdust concourse he
could almost feel their electrical buzzingtheir warmth on top his head on his bearded cheeks
the games and rides didnt beckon
him
it was the blackness
at the rear of the parkthe blackness that wove itself between the lighted gay
amusement and the wide river
he stepped over a rope
confinement onto dirt and then onto grass that was beaded with condensationsparking
shallowly with reflected coloured light night tears which were memories
of the hot day
in the distance he could make out
the sparse black curtainthe jagged treeline that stood at the riverbank
the amusement park hadnt always
been there
he had rode in a wagon to this place as a boy when it was a farm and the
farmer rented horses and they rode the horses to the river where they caught
crayfish and used them as bait to catch bass and perch and catfish
the stand of trees along the river
were thicker then
riding back in late in summer they
picked corn from the field and stuffed the ears inside their shirts
they paid the farmer and placed
the fish and corn in the wagon and rode back to where they were picked up and
walked the rest of the way home
the amusement sounds weakenedwere
baffled by the pitched black of nightabsorbed by the old fields breath
at the rivers edge he took off his
boots rolled up his pants and sat on a grassy cutbank and dangled his feet in
the water
occasionally a fish jumped and flopped
he listened to the birds muse in their
roosts
when his eyes grew accustom to
the dark he could catch the suddenthe acrobatic bats work above the water and the field
as a boy he wasnt brave enough to
stay the night
monsters
by the time he was a young man
hed met monsters
he found they had
nothing on him
Too bad Florence wasnt older
1325, Twosday,
7 1. 20
1151,
Twosday, 9 6. 20
