“...and in local sports, the Mets and Yankees both dropped road…” Debbie Morris automatically switched off the alarm radio she’d carefully set last night to turn on later than usual and glanced at her wristwatch.  Satisfied she was now, as planned,  exactly ten-minutes behind schedule,  she nodded and went back to re-checking her hair and make-up. As usual, she didn’t like what she saw in the small make-up mirror on her...

It was a beautiful Saturday in June when I received a call from dispatch. It seems a bus driver had three youngsters on her coach that were a little too young to be on their own. The female driver had called her dispatcher who in turn dispatched me. I was to intercept the bus and wait for the parents to arrive. I caught the bus on a regular layover and had the kids exit the coach. It seems they wanted to exchange their Po...

"What’s dat stuff on your face, mistuh? What is it?" Mark Cahill tried to pretend he was asleep. But the high-pitched young voice was penetrating, and persistent. His day had been filled with an early departure and a long, rough connecting flight that included two even rougher landings. Now this. And LaGuardia was over an hour away. Still, he could recognize defeat. With a sigh, Mark opened his eyes and looked towards the...

I fucking hate my poetry. I love it, too. It's so bloody banal. It has been said that poetry reveals what is in your heart... Or was ir your soul? Whatever. My heart must be filled with weird, comic, lovely, shite. It has also been said that poetry is so subjective, that it is difficult to accurately judge. So... Why am I judging my poetry? Because I'm a harsh judge of my own self. If that sentence was any less well-writt...

The bus rolled up and opened its doors like a slug sliming up a leaf. I could walk 25 miles to Seattle before the driver even put on his blinker to alert car drivers he was parking there. There are other days I would complain about this, ranting without end, but today I am in no hurry and today there is a puddle of squishy, green, glittering goo all along the side of the road--at least with his pace and precise parking, I...

Her bags are packed, she's ready to go, so she wonders out the door and into the snow. *** The frosty air hits first, and almost instantly she can feel her face is pink with cold, but her feet won't stop moving towards the bus stop--not that she'd stop them; not that she wants to stop them. The bus doors open and she smiles a small smile until she realizes she doesn't have enough to get away. Her lower lip trembles as she...

Sitting on a bus, top deck,He looks down upon the populace,they look like a buch of wee specks,all milling about, scrofulous.Music blaring in his ears,the singer talking of her fears:Abandonment, betrayal through the years.He gazes into space, writes this piece,hoping that one day, she will find peace.Time to exit the bus now,navigate through the sow,pigs everywhere, through whom he'll plough. On another bus, he continues...

Here I am, sitting on a large bus of high-school students (with a few middle-schoolers thrown in), as we are riding back from a church trip. My heart is heavy, and all I can do is stare out the window at the trees that line this Alabama highway, and think about what I’ve done. Sitting next to me is one of my best friends, who is the closest guy friend that I have. I won’t tell you his real name, but let’s call him Austin....

My flimsy woolen coat did little to protect me from the onslaught of snow. Waiting for the evening bus, I wondered where I could stay the night. I knew that this day would come; it was inevitable. I just did not expect it to happen so soon. Upon arriving home, I saw him happily carrying the child in his arms. It was his child with the other woman. I loathed her to the core but he loved her to the roots of her being. I cou...

I stand here forever, with traffic zooming by me. I feel like everyone is staring at me, wondering why I'm just standing here, like a lost soul. I don't know what to do with my hands. I try to act like I don't care. I'm cool. I'm above it all. But inside, I hate it. I hate waiting for the bus. I don't like taking public transportation. My friend, Alyssa is different. She thinks it's a fun adventure. I wish I could be more...