Actually, much of my life revolves around buses.

And the other night, the bus, she came, but did not go..

It was late. Very late. As the crowd grew into a swarm. Threatening to sting.

But the bus, she did not go.

It moved to get into position. So, it seemingly worked.

But the bus, she did not go.

Hmm . . . 

Maybe the driver -- I'm damn sure I saw her smoking within -- realized the threat she posed to passengers and waited -- correctly -- for the fumes to dissipate, but -- not wanting to be caught (unaware that I had seen her) -- was forced to keep the windows shut, preventing ventilation and freezing her vehicle into a statue-still loop of self-protection.

Well . . . 

Suddenly, a cartoon vehicle, with "Mitie" written on the side, put-putted behind the smokehaven. A sweet, silly man exited, removed a mop from his puttmobile and headed a few short paces to the bus, which welcomingly sucked him in. He swooshed something out into the street, probably vomit. And soon, the carcinogenic transport vehicle was on its way.

Along, of course, with about 2 or 3 other buses that suddenly appeared just when they weren't really needed.