Purple Riding Hood

Seven twenty-five
a.m.
The bus is crowded
full of students
and people like me
off to work.

I hang on for dear life
pushed around by travellers
getting on
getting off.

Nearly there
next stop.

Among the crowd
pushing onto the bus
I notice you
purple riding hood
dragging a cart.
You squeeze into a front seat
without seeing me.

Seven thirty
a.m.
Crowded bus.
For a few seconds
we share the same reality.

Or do we?