They Ride

Through the dark night, they ride.

I see them in the rear view mirror,
occupying the spaces between the living.
Unbeknownst to most, they sit.
Translucent images of decomposing rotten flesh,
hanging from dirty, old bones.
Dried blood stains their tattered clothes,
giving clues to their mortal demise.

Through the dark night,
condemned they ride.

A beautiful young woman boards
the empty bus and sits.
They converge on her,
pawing at her, admiring her, wanting her
life.
She looks around, somewhat paranoid,
and scratches the side of her neck,
but sees nothing.

Through the dark night,
cursed, they ride.

A happy, mentally retarded boy boards the bus,
smiles and quips, “Wow, another full bus tonight!”
He sits amongst the dead,
talking and sharing his life with them.

The woman looks on disgusted, then moves away.

Through the night,
forever damned, they ride…

March, 1999