When we first met I was drawn to you like a wave to the beach, and with each opportunity that presented itself, I was compelled to meet and join with you.
And after all this time, this– beautiful, amazing, life changing, powerful, passionate–time, I am still drawn to you like the moon to the sun, and I can do naught but let your warmth wash over me, your light eradiate me and illuminate my being, it is your essence which causes me to vibrantly shine throughout the evening sky.
You are my soul mate, and although you do not make me whole, for I was complete before you lighted within my sight, you nonetheless, enhance each and every one of my fibers, nay, every molecule of my being vibrates at a higher rate, to the point that I live on a new plane of existence with you, you revitalize and rejuvenate and are who make my life worth living.
You are the love of my life and I would never trade one microscopic moment for anything else, I love you.
And even though we an fly, sometimes it’s just nice to enjoy the moment and slow life down a bit, soaking in a good conversation on community transit.
I don’t know if anybody else is feeling this way, but I am freaked out about the route revisions/reductions. The cuts have not even occurred yet, and still the buses are over-crowded and often times leave dozens of us waiting at the stops. Reports estimate nearly 400,000 passengers daily, many of who depend on the system for transportation to work and school. Since, this is what the buses are like now, I dread to imagine what commuting will be like after the cuts.
Community Transit is wise transit; it means less traffic congestion, less stress and irritation, and it is healthier for the planet than personal vehicles.
all kempt in their own places.
There’s an accordion midriff,
where she sits,
silent and motionless,
not a blemish in sight.
Postured in a ninety degree angle,
never seeming to make eye contact,
She steps tight,
to depart the same seat.
Flash blue NIKE,
at the bottom of tight blue jeans,
and a thin tan jacket,
long enough to hide her butt.
A dream that comes and goes,
our carriage laments her passing,
shrugging off memories
of the princess that graced our trudge home.