“you should have asked me nicely” by Julia on the 4

Monday September 24, 2018
7:22pm
5 minutes
overheard on the 4 bus

A fallen chestnut narrowly misses the baby’s head I am in charge of protecgjng.
It comes directly after thinking how if a chestnut fell it would gash a chunk out of her head. Good thing that won’t happen. As if mother’s aren’t pushing their babies down chestnut tree lined streets. When it falls and bounces off the rim of the stroller instead of her it feels the way stopping an inch short of getting shat on buy a pigeon toremnting in the rafters feels.
All luck and karma and universal flow rolled up into a warning.

“you fit the part” by Sasha on the Lansdowne bus


Sunday , August 11, 2013
11:12pm
5 minutes
from a thank you card from a friend

I am sitting on the bus. It’s late, not the witching hour but late enough that there’s a tickle of tired in everybody’s eyes. A man is slumped in a solo seat. He is asleep. There’s a baby carriage near him, with a sleeping boy, two or three. They both sleep. It’s peaceful and disturbing. When the bus starts to pull away, the carriage goes lurching forward. I gasp. I put my foot out to stop it, I grab at the side. The boy doesn’t wake. Neither does the man. “Uh…” I say, mostly to the bus driver, a little to the woman with a shaved head sitting across from me reading her Kindle. I want to take the boy out of the carriage and sing to him, I want to adopt him, I want to start his university fund. The man sleeps. The bus driver tries to rouse him, unsuccessfully. “Is he drunk?” I ask. “No,” says the driver, matter-of-fact. “He’s sad.” I don’t ask how the driver knows this man is sad, perhaps there is a code of understanding reserved for those that encounter people day-in-day-out of all corners of this city. Perhaps it’s a “guy” thing. He’s sad. He’s sleeping. He’s sad. Okay. I get down on my knees and put the lock on the wheel of the stroller.