Overcrowded Bus

The faces of the people 

on the bus,

overcrowded 

and malodorous with stench,

produce blank stares 

or embarrassing eye glances

only to be quickly averted

but replaced. 

Bodies shift with the bus:

the stops,

and starts,

all movements are 

synchronized

as though, 

they are just an 

extension

of a larger picture.

Trust is absent.

I recognize frequenters:

a girl 

walks the same 

way home 

as me, 

hasty 

and hurried steps.

Or a Jewish boy

waits in the morning

sometimes reading, 

usually

a thick book,

a novel of fiction,

I think.

I can't even say 

hello.

Faces remind me of someone

I know,

reviewing memories of the past

and realizing
my unawareness
about my surroundings.
Somehow

pilled into a vehicle,

awkwardly,

lives moving

the same direction,

then spilling out onto the street,

like a bucket of paint

tipped on its side,

only the paint

changes colors

and continues on

in endless,

separate pathways.

What if those pathways 

reconnected?

Would I 

notice?

Sorrowful connections 

as people

go on

existing

without even 

acknowledging 

each other;

and finally, 

forever 

gone.