Lies, on the bus.
Night time, hard to write under tube light
of the bus interior that stretches above me,
I look around. To my right sits none other than myself,
in the attached bus. he sits right next to me.
In the bus to the left, I sit on the distant outside. 
A bus going backwards in front of me.
	I wander past doors, people cars cops. 
I follow the creek of pavement, 
hesitate at the heart of the campus, the "Greenwich Village"

My feet lead: 
to the bookstore, 
down the stairs, 
past the cafeteria, 
out the door, 
a table. 
I sit.

The moon complains, I haven't a clue why.
The street light post that sheds light, sharing it so willingly observes.
Students scream and gobble in their cackle.
My personal light coordinator is covered in dust.
A heart has been affectionately cleaned off in the middle,
just out of consideration.
I get up, and depart.