Once aboard I tuck my guide dog under the seat, her paws safe
For I take care of her, our pact, she watches cars I watch her toes,
When a woman, a stranger, a person entirely unaccustomed to the blind
Leans close, rustling something in her hands I know not what
And says “I’d have to kill myself if I was you.” I think she’s got flowers.
She kneads the cellophane, breathes hard. “Oh I already did that,,”
I say. “I used to be you in the far flung spindrift galaxy
Called the Black Eye. I rode a bus with hot house flowers
And hey diddle diddle one day I couldn’t take it anymore
So now I’m a blind man beside you on a boppity bumpity bus.”
Yes in case you’re wondering, I smile.
She gets off at the next stop.