Winter

A grey bus stands waiting in its salty grime.
Shadows of passengers fill the windows.
The door opens.
The driver, eyes down, wears a bus-like uniform.
He barely watches the battle
between altruism and selfishness
just outside his door. It is familair.
Every stop brings less humanity.
This is how the world will end:
with the closing
of a salty bus door.

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