The Bus Stop

Like memories,
they are littered around the city
where I expect them
and where I don’t

Blue and crème signs
as cold as our eyes
and as silent as snow banks
on March’s ides

I’m empty without you,
as the bus is void without me
I try not to miss either of you,
but waiting can’t last forever

They waited for transit
and it found them,
and I never knew them
except through the place
in which they waited