In Transit 3

A missed bus is a chance to catch a cappuccino. Don’t stress about
the waiting mess. Take slow steps on freshly wetted streets
with your soundtrack of choice, inhale rosemary and lavender mists until
roasting beans assault your senses, then skip to wakefulness. A little gold-haired girl
will smile through oatmeal cookied teeth and wave when you smile back.
Let your croissant crumble like flecked leaves on your notepad to remind you
of the changing season. Fuck deadlines, this is your first fall morning.
Watch fog-eyed couples drift in with the breeze, barely holding each other up, then
bound back into the fog with vigor. The smiling girl will hug a wrought-iron
maternity goddess as if some archetypal instinct compels her. Taste the bitterness
beneath the foam and wish you’d added sugar. Check to see if the leaves are changing, then
get caught in a drifting sailboat of cloud. Let the damp morning enjoy your company,
just don’t miss the next bus.

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