Foggy Windows

The evening falls in autumn curls

Outside the bus the world is dark

My usual route has now unfurled

The usual lights now muddy sparks

The windows of the bus are foggy

All you know out there is rain

The faded outline of a stoplight

Then back to blurry black again

The bus, once lonely, now feels cozy

We are enveloped in its case

The open doors, another portal

Someone steps out, the others stay

It’s like a separate dimension

The insides of the bus, our own

They tie me to my little world—

My fogged-up bus,

My temporary moving home.