The hinged bus must be broken. We're stuffed into something more intimate this warm afternoon. I have a woman ahead and a woman behind pressed close. I feel breasts at my back and buttocks at my crotch. The bus goes round the curves through the woods. We're looking out the window and pressing and releasing together from the knees and the thighs. I think, this is why we encourage old people to sit, because they've had their turn and now they have to sit in the vibrating seats, and I make myself not laugh down this woman's collar. She has a mile to go and a spine that goes all the way up.