City Bus.

I've never been on a city bus.
I don't imagine they're much like a school bus.
Maybe more like a train on wheels.
I mean, I've seen them in movies and things.
Couples cuddled up on little bench-like seats.
Arms linked, heads on shoulders.
Waiting for their stop.
It reminds me of this huge oxymoron metaphor of life.
we're all just sitting on the bus waiting for our stop.
Talking, laughing, sleeping, taking in the view.
There are the days where we're silent.
Introverted, self-seeking answers.
And the days where the bus just flies.
I want to be that couple in the back of the bus.
Overhead light flickering, almost annoyingly.
But calming, like a lullaby.
I want to be that couple, bundled up.
In the heart of Chicago, in scarves, in your arms.
I want to be that couple, waiting for our stop.
Because I know when the time comes,
We'll get off together.
We'll inhale the brisk winter air, leaving our mark
In the snow behind us.
We'll leave a path to follow.
We'll leave a legacy full of wonder.
We'll leave footprints.
One pair bigger than the other.
Side by side, uninterrupted.
Deliberate, precise, unfaltering.
A long continuous line of evidence.
Evidence of you and I.
Evidence of us.
Evidence of our lives.
Evidence of our love.

The life.

Within these fingers is flowing up river
with the salmon colored independence
that drips from your lips.
I need a day away from everything.
I need you.
I need this.