I wait on the side of the road – cars rushing by like flood waters, staved off momentarily by a red light. Humidity makes the day hotter, and I wait in the heat – waiting – anticipating, to return home. Although I wish that you were with me, this is a journey I make alone. People surge around me as electric currents carrying their own energy. No eye contact made, even less physical contact – as they cleverly make their way to their seats I keep on thinking about a shared bed, laying my head next to you, and your warm presence … Instead my body is engulfed by a blast of cold air – provided by state of the art public transportation. The riders are frozen individually – socially separate even though inches apart, and in the window I think I see your reflection next to mine. Accompanied by your memory, I feel like I’m already home. Multiple stops are made – people flow in and out of aisles. Seeing new faces for every mile of this journey taken. This window is a protected view as I gaze on makeshift homeless abodes, construction taking place on weather destroyed roads, a crazed street preacher proclaiming the end of the world, and the rain now coming down – pelting the windows as if heaven hurled them to punctuate his words. I make my exit – my journey almost done – as I’m drenched heading out these bus doors walking to my own.