Through the Rearview Mirror

[poetry_zealot]

Wheels hum, rubber whispers to asphalt.
The windshield fogged with morning haze,
dreams still clinging.                                 Beautiful Imagery
The mirror tilts—
a tilted world.

The old woman climbs aboard,
veins threading her hands,
her cane tapping patience into the floor.
Her purse held tight—
a bread roll, a lifetime folded inside.
No one looks.
She sees everything.                        While I understand the intent behind these last two lines, I don't think it works with the rest of the stanza. I've highlighted the two previous sentences within this stanza and the last two lines (both being sentences) are much shorter which affects the overall pacing of the stanza. Perhaps find a way to elongate the two sentences or connect them.

The old man stomps on,
a cough sharp as broken glass.
The beer can in his coat rattles.
He sinks into the first seat,                         Perhaps don't use sink as the verb. It is far too passive and inactive in contrast to the other words you've used to build his character.
knees wide,
a crayon box cracking beneath his boot.
No apology.                                                 Not sure if the last line is necessary but it may just be a personal choice of mine.

In the mirror, faces blur:
hooded teens hunched over phones,
thumbs twitching,
music leaking from earbuds,
a tide only they can hear.                              The last two lines contradict each other. If the music is leaking from earbuds, then others can hear too. Good imagery throughout this stanza though.

At the next stop,
a woman stumbles in,
her stroller wailing on squeaky wheels.
A toddler clings to her leg,
sticky-fingered and tired.                            I'm not sure I get the image you're going for here. How does the toddler cling onto her leg when the women is presumably pushing the stroller in with the handle on the back.
Perhaps split the stanza into two here.
Men stare at their laps.                                        Maybe replace the period with a semicolon
A boy with a skateboard stands,
his sneakers split at the seams.
The woman says nothing,
rocking her child to the bus’s turns.

Outside, graffiti blooms on concrete—           Beautiful Imagery
names, arrows, anger,
pointing nowhere.

In the mirror,
a man in a suit tightens his tie,
checks his watch,
glares at time as if it owes him.                Good writing
Behind him,
a woman in a floral dress watches.
Her gaze pools with questions.
He doesn’t see her,
eyes fixed on the glowing screen,
scrolling for what he’ll never find.                Wasn't he looking at his watch though...

The bus smells of grease, sweat, wet umbrellas—
lives in transit.                                              This feels off from the rest of the stanza. The line is shorter and abrupt.
Everything blurs into a single scent,
like old rain on pavement.

At night, the mirror dims.                           There was no indication that the mirror was bright or lit...
Faces smudge into shadows.
Neon streaks the glass,                 
colors bleeding into rain.        Beautiful
The bus groans uphill,
its engine a tired animal.

The old woman is gone.
The old man is gone.
The boy with the skateboard,
the mother with her child—gone.

Only reflections remain,
ghosts trapped in the glass.         Perhaps replace glass with mirror. Keeps the extended metaphor going to the end.
The driver wipes them away
with a slow hand.                 

Overall, a really interesting piece. Incredible imagery, metaphors, and extended metaphors. A few issues with diction and syntax but other than that there is not much more I can say about this piece.