Thinking of Walt Whitman At A Downtown Bus Stop

Shawn Smith- July 5, 2006

I think of you today Walt Whitman
As I sit here at a downtown bus stop
Mere minutes away from my apartment

I see many buses passing me by filled with people
People walking on the streets
Mothers pushing carriages
A man wearing a straw hat riding his bicycle

Another man got off the bus with me
I see him quite often, although we have never spoken
Sometimes he has a beard, sometimes just a moustache
Today he is clean shaven
He lights up a cigarette and limps along with the support of his cane
I cannot remove the thought from my mind that he reminds me of Yassar Arafat

Homeless beggars seeking a few coins from passers by
Police officers riding on their bicycles, but no straw hats do they wear
People waiting
People rushing
Always movement
The old and the young alike, moving, moving, constantly moving
People chattering on their cell phones
Pretty girls
Pot-bellied men
One of them writing a poem at a bus station

The smell of cigarette smoke always fills the air
The city is all a-buzz
Knapsacks
Ugly blue purses
Lap-top computers
Baseball caps
Keys clinging and clanging
Canes everywhere supporting the old and feeble
Headphones
People reading novels
Magazines
Business suits and blue jeans
Sun glasses
Packages being delivered

All moving, moving, like the clouds across the sky on this cool and breezy July day
Ah, Walt Whitman, there is much here for you to write about