there is a young man at the station
he has long hair
blond
also, it's on his face;
heavy.
over a triangle, though,
he puts on round glasses
for a moment:
you know who i
imagine
this to be.
he gets off the bus long before i do.
my thoughts of him expire:
i need a shower.
behind the windsheild i sit in the passengers seat and navigate.
click here to speak to me.