Reading From the Outside

[mlund]

I was riding the bus today
As I do every day, 
Lost in my own contemplation

When a boy with windblown hair
And a girl with painted black nails
Jumped on for shelter from the rain

I watched as he steadied her
From the jerking starts
And abrupt stops 

How she peered into his eyes
Stepping into his gaze
And receding from our world

And as I observed from my bench
All I could consider,
Was that they were the kind of people one wrote stories about