
At the Bus Stop, Always
He always asks how long
‘til the bus called Bookworm comes
I always tell him two or three minutes
To him it always seems like eternity
We pass time
He calls me poopy butt
Because he knows I will tickle him
We race up and down the sidewalk
He always wins
These little rituals are constant
Discussing the weather
The birds awakening in song
Then Bookworm approaches
He reaches up to me
Always
A hug and kiss on the lips
Have fun, have a great day
Flashing lights, brake squeal
Thomas the driver,
A hip, old guy from Seattle
Greets with a smile
He calls us men
The school days
Start this way always
I blow a kiss
As he settles in the front seat
He waves bye
Bookworm roars down the street
Turns the corner
I know this time won’t last
It will seem like two or three minutes
Little rituals drip away
Except
I will love him
Always