The Old Man and the Bus

He sits alone on the bus Route 15 from Main Street to the Mall Riding in an endless circle A half burned down cigarette in his lips He talks to anyone who will listen At times he rambles on about nothing Sometimes he is as lucid as a country pond But those moments are few and far between Most time he sits watching the world go by He sees people getting on and getting off He just sits and waves at each one Riding and watching are his life He has nothing else No family No friends No home He only has the bus