I don't think deep thoughts every day.
I think of them when I'm alone in a car, with my headphones on,
And when I'm on a bus, when I don't have a friend to pass the time.

The buildings rush by me, and I concentrate on their cracks and blemishes
Only for those few seconds.

But in those few seconds:
I think about how that particular crack came to be,
Why that particular color was chosen,
Why they weren't able to afford a better house,
My favorite memories,
My best friends,
My favorite songs,
How poor our society is,
How I want to help,
How I know that whatever I do,
Things will always revert to what they were.

You want me to cut straight to the deep stuff,
To have intelligent conversation,
To ask me my opinion on everything.
You can ask me all you want,
But I already would have forgotten the answers.

Let me tell you about public buses
with their rolling wheels and upright seats
where the driver entraps in his own world
and as the passengers, we in ours;

but there's a strange occurrence
when strangers share the same seat--
suddenly, we are sensitive
to their slightest movement
the deepness of their breath
our legs touching slightly, sometimes
ramming together throughout
this epic journey.

then, it's our stop;
we are at the window seat, our eyes darting
outwards, with a speeded heart,
our eyes focus on our
impending bus stop.

but before our words form
the sounds, articulate the words,
this stranger has already shifted
with a smile.

"Thank you," you say, stunned,
wondering how they knew
your feelings.

******* the bus,
I saw you but you will never know,
I saw how the others looked at you but i don't want to be anything like them.

******* the bus,
You look amazing and you scare the **** out of me,
I do want your number but i can see what is to come and it plays in my head like a broken record,

******* the bus,
I wish our paths never did crossed so i don't ever wonder what do you do,
I wish i did not have to feel angry when those boys harrassed you.

******* the bus,
why did you have to get off the same bus stop? and then walk the same way?
why did you hurried your footstep behind me? as if to let me know we live close by..

******* the bus,
You're a 10, i'm a 2,
i'm the kind of guy the phrase "let's just be friends.." was probably made for,
So let's cut this short, *******.

An Aunt and a Nephew on an adventure to explore
It all happened at the Macy’s Herald Square Store
It was the marquee eyes and yellow buses that caught the attention in a little fellow being wise
As a tot, I picked up the yellow bus
I had to have the bus being a must
My Aunt saw the bus in my hand
She told me to put back at her command
But a tot determined to get the bus became my demand
I made such a fuss for that bus
My Aunt was forced to buy the yellow school bus
My persuasion in maneuver became a must
My passion for any bus became my reality with no fuss
Buses have become my hobby from that start
I have a complete 2,000 Bus collection in making my mark
From the start of the engine to the movement with exhaust
A bus hobby I love
The structure and wheels I think of
From a bus pioneers point of view
Here is a more detailed clue
My apartment is a like a bus collector’s paradise
Each bus I have represent themselves
Yes, they fit quite comfortably on the shelves
But it’s Greyhound ahead on the mount
I have so many busses you simply can’t count
It’s my Greyhound glass stretched hound
It doesn’t make a sound
However it stands on my bookshelf being sturdy bound
Buses have become what I missed
I don’t intend to ever dis
My buses have become my catch
They are my assortments like a batch
My buses are just for fun, but everlasting as the shining sun.

i sit there with
the cool wind
breezing against my face
while the summer sizzles
on my shoulders

your golden thigh
sticks to my skin
as we drive to the game
every ******* week

the boys
they sit in the back
and pack their lips
and talk **** about
the girls

the girls
who don't realize
that they're their easy targets
who skip around
in their short, tight
dresses

they talk about their waists
and the way they like to moan
every little imperfection
all avail have they shown

they think that it makes them buff
they think that it makes them cool
and i let them light their egos
and sometimes i chirp on too

but yet i sit and listen
and sometimes i think
they don't realize that i'm a girl
too

i don't know how i feel about that