The hum of the bus,
pressed to my ear
The cool plastic of the seat,
breaths of hot air on my face
Voices in the background, rising and falling
Laughing and yelling,
Chatting and teasing,
Whispering conspiratorially.

I push myself upright,
and take a look around.

Friendships seem to mingle
on trips like these.
"I don't know you that well,
But we can still hang out."
Sometimes friendships come out of it,
In the end.
Sometimes friendships end,
Shaken by trips like these.

It's like life condensed.
You live, you go on every day,
Slowly and slowly progressing,
Moving through changes.
Things like this seem to hold the essence of that,
Compressed in a few hours time.
It's not really living harder,
But living more.

Close contact with people I care about,
Close contact with people I don't give a damn about,
By the end of the day,
I have different views on these people.

I look over at Frank,
Kicking back in his seat,
Head back, eyes closed,
Probably snoring, but I can't hear him.
I look back at Jeanette,
Laughing and talking with the people in the back,
I catch bits of the conversation,
And have to smile, too.

I see Alex, playing cards
And cheating at the top of his lungs,
I see Hannah, laughing at the strangest things,
And listening to her country music.
I see my sister, reading her book,
Closed to the world around her,
I see Jason, at the back of the bus,
Getting people's attention and using it.

I look down at the seat and close my eyes,
Starting to lie back down.
Another burst of laughter reaches my ears,
and I pause.

I could go back to sleep,
Waste the time home,
Continue my slow progress,
My slow living.

Or . . .

Wordlessly I get up out of my seat,
And move to the back of the bus.