Reading V.I. Lenin on the 74 Bus Headed West

Chicago IL

Description

You were reading State and Revolution, sitting in the seat right by the bus’s side door. Your style was quiet and elegant. Your light brown hair kept in a timelessly chic mid-length bob. Your wrists were slender, joined to deft hands. You were engrossed in your reading and didn’t take breaks every paragraph to check your phone, the way so many of our generation “read.” I was a sweaty clown standing in the aisle wearing short-shorts and a dirty t-shirt. I’d been walking bourgoise dogs all day and didn’t care about my appearence or the nauseating effect it had on my comrades in public transportation. My hair was long and curly and my unkempt moustache hung over my lip—I’ve since shorn the mop off and keep the stache above my lip now. In my tired, probably stoned state, I tried not to stare but how could I not! Transfixed by your evident brilliance and beauty, I imagine my attempt at furtive glances in reality resulted in a threatening, oafish glare. We we’re on the Fullerton Bus Number 74 headed West. I got off before you, around California, and though my soul was crying out in anguish, already grieving your absence from my life, my body went through its rote routine of disembarking and scuttling to the front of the bus to retrieve my bike from the rack mounted there.