I believe that the black cat that crossed my path halfway down 6th street just now was about 12 hrs tardy. Had he been prompt, perhaps I would have had some inclination of what to expect of the day. I did not tell him he was tardy, though. I did not, in fact, say anything at all. I’m actually surprised that I am even talking to you now. Not that I’m really “talking,” but you understand what I mean.
Two blocks before Mr. Blackie a large 4-door station wagon stopped too far forward in the intersection, effectively blocking the crosswalk and I was tempted to open the back door and slide through the back seat while saying, “Hi, how do you do? I’m fine thanks, just passing through to cross the street. Have a nice day, bye bye.”
I rode the #34 bus home from work today. It smelled like pee. Strangely, the bus stopped to pick up a handicapped woman at the same place it stopped yesterday to pick up a handicapped woman. The two women were different, but i wonder if they ever try to get on the same bus at the same intersection on the same day and have to play the polite game of who is going to ride and who is going to wait for the next one because they both cant fit. There are plenty of busses on this route, though, and whoever won out on being the nicer would find that the #32 or #34 or #36 would come along in the next 15 or 20 minutes, maybe a lot sooner, and really whats 15 or 20 minutes in the whole grand scheme of things?
The #34 bus terminates at Southern Ave, but I’ve never been there. I can take the #32 and #36 home from work, too. They terminate at Friendship Heights and Naylor Road, but I can’t remember which one goes where. I’ve never been to either place and have no reason for ever doing so. I cant decide how I feel about those places, those termination points. Some days I believe that they might as well not even exist; on other days they exist in my mind as wonderfully mysterious places, magical places with quaint architecture and different climates and unique cultures.
Southern Ave would be lined with cypress trees and have fried chicken joints or baptist churches on every corner. The whole place would smell of azalea and the sidewalks would be in danger of disappearing because everything would be covered in kudzu.
In Friendship Heights theres always a rainbow in the sky and the sun has a smiley face and kids run around with balloons and kites and everyone is always kind enough to give you directions if your lost and no one is ever, ever lonely.
i find it wonderfully tragic and beautiful that the end of the bus line is both literally and figuratively the last place anyone would want to go.
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