There but for the grace of God go I. I must refrain from calling my fellow bus riders huddled masses yearning to breathe free. All of them sit with less than perfect posture, wear layers of old fabric because coats from the North Face or Columbia cost hundreds. A few have prepared for winter by shopping the seconds rack at Jack's British Petroleum. I must refrain because I am one with them, riding the bus, seeking small happinesses, trying to keep warm. Only one man boarded at the plasma donation centre at Barclay and Sherman, and it is not down in his down jacket and it is not good faux fur fringing his hood. I've noticed this knock off knock down style of winter coat sold at Sam's Drink All on Getty. He has to keep warm by going house to house, business to business. He has a smartphone and a Boost Mobile phone that is all keyboard and no screen.
Man is inviting all the bus riders to the Muskegon Eagles at Seventh and Western, and they'll eat for free because he got some free passes for being a top salesperson at his company. It's nice to share. I'm thinking the Eagles have very good perch.
We are up near the high school and my fellow bus rider has started rapping quietly to music to his earplugs, powered by his smartphone. His body is replenishing plasma as he raises again his theme. I ask him to pull my cord for me and he does. Hackley Public Library.