cold impressions of self
i get off of work, run to the bus stop to catch the last bus of the night home. at the bus stop a woman who could be a music teacher, hobo, or heroin addict stares at me. a guy bundled up tighter than a toddler in a snowstorm stares at me. i wear no sweater, just a punisher t-shirt and i am feeling the good of the cold on my body. i am not worried, i feel that i do not have to give into the cold for some reason, i feel like talking for hours about something innane. i feel like asking the cute cashier out for coffee. i feel like climbing a wall, which i then do. the heroin and child infused people around me continue to stare. bus stops are not the social event of the century.
on the bus, i see a guy i rode with earlier into boulder. i remember him because he looks like a slightly chubby, slightly younger, bruce willis. nodding in recognition, and saying something to the effect of "what's happenin" i proceed to dive into kerouac in my favorite reading seat (which is empty tonight, mana from heaven) and wonder what dean moriarty would do in this situation. a guy gets on a few stops later whose hair is done up in little braids, witch stick up in all kinds of directions, all with blue hairrubberbands, with a black shirt, with some blue on it, and black shoes, with blue laces. he appearance makes me laugh in the wonderment of the supposed matching that wasn't (or was, who knows?) intentional.
once off the bus, i ride home on my bike, intentionally freezing my ass off for the sheer joy of being cold.
on the bus, i see a guy i rode with earlier into boulder. i remember him because he looks like a slightly chubby, slightly younger, bruce willis. nodding in recognition, and saying something to the effect of "what's happenin" i proceed to dive into kerouac in my favorite reading seat (which is empty tonight, mana from heaven) and wonder what dean moriarty would do in this situation. a guy gets on a few stops later whose hair is done up in little braids, witch stick up in all kinds of directions, all with blue hairrubberbands, with a black shirt, with some blue on it, and black shoes, with blue laces. he appearance makes me laugh in the wonderment of the supposed matching that wasn't (or was, who knows?) intentional.
once off the bus, i ride home on my bike, intentionally freezing my ass off for the sheer joy of being cold.