There are three strangers with me in the sheltered bus stop. The winter storm keeps us behind the protective glass but the wicked wind relentlessly abrades it, trying to steal what little heat we have in the small space. The… Continue Reading
Tonight, it’s dogs. A pack of feral dogs, silently following me through dark, unfamiliar streets. I move away, slowly but steadily, trying not to show fear. At least at first. The dogs don’t let me leave them behind, but they… Continue Reading
The man at the controls thought about the people he was transporting. In airline parlance they’d be called “souls.” But the BART system had no such term. They were just people: skin-bags full of spaghetti, flank steak and fish brains.… Continue Reading
Ever since his wife died, riding the bus became Oscar’s outing for the day. He once enjoyed walking, but his hips made a simple stroll to the corner a painful experience. Hip replacement surgery was discussed by his doctor, but… Continue Reading
He entered the metro and slumped into a molded seat across from my wheelchair. I assumed he was homeless. He looked bad and smelled worse. It was the sort of funk that creeps up on a person — the kind… Continue Reading