by Laurita Miller

I press my forehead against cool glass and listen to the bus murmur things I want to hear. 

I can take you away, away, away.

A washed out world rushes past; grey streets and buildings enclosed by a frosted glass sky.  A stray dog stands on the corner.  A shopping cart lies broken and abandoned in a snow bank. 

Away, away, away.

The bus stops, but no one gets on or off.  I close my eyes and listen to the murmur begin again.

Away. away.

At the last stop I push to my feet and step out into the monochrome city.  The murmurs will tell their lies to someone else.  I will fade and blend into the grey.