Microcosmos

In the predawn grey of Monday, we climb into TheBus, shuffling for space hugging packs, briefcases, parcels. Near the driver, sit three elderly tourists whispering over a map, hoping they are on the right bus. Standing by the back door is a man in a business suit wearing Nike shoes and a woman in a long dress with a faded plumeria lei. A pair of young lovers working over math books watch out the window for the community college. To singing pneumatic brakes, we finally arrive, pushing through the side, stumbling to the pavement. The door slaps shut behind.