This 8 year girl already has her sassy lips pursed.

No-way-am-I-listening-to-you-mom-

You-have-no-idea-what’s-cool-in-elementary-school-anymore.

Her older sister is sitting next to her and tries too hard. 

Goes for the “mysterious-sexy-broken-girl” persona.

Dark make up,

dark boots,

dark smiles.

I want to tell her she is already perfect. 

The boy who I see twice a week,

wears camo, like usual.

We exchanged glances, like usual.

Go our separate ways, like usual. 

Today there is a drunk man on the bus.

This is not unusual. 

Public transportation often hauls around the drunks at noon,

after they are done drinking away their money 

by 11:30.

This one is a happy, chatty drunk.

Thank goodness.

The last one was an angry one,

bitter about his choices and chances

and also quite upset the bus had to stop so much. 

But this one will talk to anyone and does.

His robust laughter is contagious

and soon I see the patrons of lonely bus 48A

are sharing little smiles

and splashes of laughter. 

It is nice.

Seeing us unite in a common human experience,

even if it is only for the amount of time it takes to shake a hand.

Even if we are only laughing at how a drunk

on a bus at noon on a Wednesday

is talking to us about

silly, frivolous things.