a bus to the sea

I almost got on a greyhound an hour ago without even knowing where it was going. I saw a bus loading and just suddenly felt this desperation wash over me, like getting on the bus would mean the end of things. The end of cat piss. the end of cigarettes. an end of me as I am here. like getting on a greyhound might redeem me somehow.

I wanted the bus to go as far west as the highway goes. or maybe as far east, I havent been to the east in awhile.

I tugged on a mans coat to ask where the bus was going, and when it left. But I couldnt get the sound out, so I just said "excuse me" and kept walking.

I figured that I'd have to explain why I was in winnipeg, or ottawa or montreal. and I didnt want to do that. So I went on my way.