Bus Note.

I stood and waited for the bus downtown Victoria while I listen to Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll. I realized that no one knows what I’m giggling about while Tweetledee and Tweetledum go on about their nonsense.

Bundled up, protected from the heavy shower, people with their eyes cast down seem to be as glum as the grey sky. Here I am laughing under the lip of a roof to keep my sweater dry. An angry woman begins to beat a old pop can discarded in the parking lot of the nearest store. Yet I giggle as the Walrus and the Carpenter argue over their meal.

The bus rolled up to the curb and beaconed me out of the rain. The sound of the patter of rain against cement was drowned out by the rumble of the engine. I loaded the bus as Alice cried. Poor silly girl. I crammed my legs into the tight space between the seats.

Alice dressed the Tweetle brothers for battle as I observed the people on the bus. A drip of water landed on the woman in front of me, angered she slipped into the seat beside her. I eyed the underside of the advertisements. At each joint water collected and then dripped at each jump of the bus.

The white queen’s scream drew my attention back to the story and back to the world outside the window. My small white house came to view. I pulled the yellow cord at my ear. And there my bus journey came to an end.