The gas station sign

Bathes the bus stop in soft, blue light

And I imagine that if objects could talk

I'd ask,

Who else did you watch?

Did you stand guard for the single elderly man

The broke student

The odd stranger with spare change

Enough for two hours to ride along the city's veins

Where else did they go?

The people of in-between

Who moved and stopped in beat with the beeps and shared seats

Not quite home, not quite lost

But no longer here

Waiting for the bus that might never come

Stuck with the stars and the sidewalk.

But I see the orange glow

Coming down the road

Tonight, at least

I'm headed for home

So I bid the bus stop good night

Take a seat at the back

And let the rumbling lull me to sleep.