A Few Stops Away
–after Early Sunday Morning (1930) by Edward Hopper
Alone, I wait for #3030
as the wind makes a mockery of my puffy jacket,
I feel its muscular push slide me across the sidewalk—
a reluctant figure skater on uneven ice.
I fight her forces, waiting for reprieve
that should only be a few stops away by now.
The rubber heel of my boot catches in a crack,
and for a moment, I stand still,
but my confidence erodes…
a mountain lost to time.
What am I really waiting for?
I wait for a ride that doesn’t wait for me,
a driver who never knows my name,
a stranger meeting me for the first time…
every morning.
I wait for them:
Bus #3030 with the crying rear wheel.
Seat G5, sea foam green with raised red petals.
Marcus with the purple scarf and crooked tooth.
Winnie, named after a Wonderful Year, not a bear.
But who is waiting for me?
Days have become a rhythm
of routines and reflections.
Meetings that begin without me,
my empty chair just another
unclaimed saddle in the herd.
I wait for friends to call,
but my phone screen stays dark,
a quiet forest that refuses
to sway with the wind of their voices.
Love is the bus that never slows for me—
I watch it blur past,
tires whining like a call
I couldn’t answer in time.
Patrick G. Roland is a writer and educator. He explores life’s experiences through poetry and storytelling, attempting to inspire others both in the classroom and through writing. He lives near Pittsburgh with his wife, who is his thoughtful critic, and their two children, who are his muse. His poetry can be found in the Eunoia Review and Neologism Poetry Journal.
