THE LAST SEAT

               

Walking down the isle, I spot a spot to sit, quicken my pace while others press up against my back hoping I misstep.  I sit victoriously as eyes dart from emotionless faces.

                I turn to you, smiling my friendliest smile.  You return the politeness, face reddening a bit, then turn to the window.  Today's a good day!

                I pretend to look out the window, your body pushing the side of the Taipei 22, knees squeezed together while dainty palms and fingers caress them. 

                When the dark outside is dark enough, I can see your eyes in the glass: a fun house game.  I try to meet them, but they respectfully look out into the passing crowded street's sidewalks full of tofu stands and spicy hot pot stores. 

                Six stops later, I grab your glance and your cheeks again quickly fill with blood.  Your head drops down and hair flows over your face like drapes.  You stand, push the purple button and squeeze past, careful not to touch. 

                The bus stops and you exit, turning to look at me like a mother does their child.  I hesitate only a second before standing and running to the door only to hear the hydraulic hiss of it closing, my eyes never leaving yours as you step onto the sidewalk. 

                The driver stares through his mirror smirking as he steps on the gas hard, beetle nut dripping down his chin.

 

 

---------

INFERNO

---------

Email: billyallen@hotmail.com

---------

This page is at http://www.necessaryprose.com/