Thursday, October 9, 2008

Conversations (in my head) On a Bus

Waiting for a bus is like waiting for a man. You keep looking around the corner, hoping the next one is going your way, will stop to let you inside, not leave you standing in the cold.

“Excuse me, sir, do you mind holding me? I’m sure the woman behind you wouldn’t mind moving. It won’t take but a moment. Just wrap your arms around the left side of my body. Brush my cheek with your wrist as you check the time. Bump your leg against mine. How about a handshake? A smile?”

Sometimes I am this hungry. My emotional stomach is growling. I guess I’m not the only one who thinks these thoughts. In her song, “Summer in the City,” Regina Spektor sings:“Summer in the city, I'm so lonely lonely lonely
So I went to a protest just to rub up against strangers”

Sometimes, when I'm standing there in the crowd, I look over at the man in front of me and move my hand so that it brushes his, or make sure I lurch forward with the bus, right into the man to my left with his groceries. And I wonder, do they need to feel something too? How cold is it in their world right now? Do they notice me? Can they hear the growling?

I don't think so. Everyone is going through their own type of hunger. We all need to be filled in different ways. Usually, my urge for touch subsides. If you don't eat for awhile, eventually you forget you're empty.

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