Observation Station: Bus #20, 3:45PM
I fold myself into invisible spaces. Like a cat, my tail forgotten. The man next to me is foam packed, bloated with winter. A crooked old man hand escapes his sleeve and pulls me from my hiding space. He points: “I want to murder those birds.” Other men who are never not drunk barely hold […]
Observation Station: Bus #20, 3:45PM Read More »