Sunday, 12:45 p.m., 16th Church - 16th Guerrero

A blind man boards the bus and my life seems easy.
His feelers are out for a seat. No one knows if he/she should help. Do we say, "There is a seat there. No, two over, there."
Is that belittling? The only standing rule on the Deuce Deuce seems to be ignore, so no one says a thing.
The bus takes off and he adeptly puts on his sea legs.
He tap-taps until he finds a seat, negotiates his space, taps again and sits.
The last thing, I think to myself, I would want is heightened senses on the 22.
The piss smells more pungent. Perhaps, he can deduce whether it came from gin or vodka. The noise is louder. The tightness of quarters, a jungle even with the courtesy of vision.
He is smiling. And I'm humbled and a little jealous.
He may be getting more out of life, more out of the ride, in certain ways, than I ever will.

-photo compliments of Megan Allison