Poem: The man on the bus

There is a man on the bus I ride in. He is always serious and it makes me wonder what he is thinking. As I watch him, he searches through his three backpacks, reorganizing things in each. He wears coke bottle glasses. Every time I see him, he is wearing big, black combat boots. He keeps his eyes to the floor.

Sometimes I wonder if he likes his job. He seems depressed and stares into space. Sometimes I think about how hard life can be – wanting something else and not being able to achieve it. Does he feel this way too? Or does he have everything he needs in his backpacks?

I’ll never know unless I ask him. I can’t ask him, but you could. Ask him, “Is it hard for you to get by?”

As I exit the bus to go to school, he remains the same; constant, cognitive, and in space.