Soft Focus

SOFT FOCUS
or
THE BUS

Sometimes I wait
Forty minutes.
Sometimes
I don’t wait at all.
People pass me on the sidewalk.
Cars pass,
and the passengers stare.
They judge as the look,
But I
Stare right back.

When the bus finally comes
I have my fare ready --
I hate to be the one
Who holds up the rest.

I scan for a seat
Or just hold the rail.
I never sit in the back
Even if
The only open seat is there.
I stay in the front,
Just like
I sit in front when in a classroom.
A nerd in class
A nerd on the bus.

There is a technique to
Maintaining balance on the bus
Even as it
Jolts, sways, and breaks.



I keep my ears open.
I hear so much:
Spanish
Vietnamese
Chinese
Farsi
French
German, from those two girls I always see
Going to the beach.
The conversations fascinate me.

Stephan better move his car next week
Or Teesha is going to be pissed.

Two guys talked about
A blind man they met
He took their hands
A pointed them in some
Direction.
It must have been
The direction of Life.

Just fragments, though.
I never start or finish
The whole story.
I prefer it that way.
Makes the possibilities endless,
And the stories more fantastic.



What amazes me is
The most private and intimate
Things
Can be discussed openly
While
A complete stranger
Is pushed up against your left shoulder
Listening to every detail.

There is a rare night
When the bus is near empty.
Just
You and the Driver.
The city twinkles
In myriad colors
More
Vibrant
More
Out of focus
Than a beautiful film.
Your stop comes too soon –
If you even catch it at all.

And stepping off the bus
Into the cold night
Life returns to
normal.

Copyright Oren Peleg 2009