Lumos

Crosswalks painted rainbow and as you pull around the corner, the pastel blue bus still stands there. Reliable as ever. You play a last gig, stand swaying at the encores and drink a last beer on the bus before stepping out sad into the night, into a car, into suburban quiet calm. The clouds lay heavy on your brow, but you hold on to hope that other things may find their way. They leave at 2, arrive in Fargo some other day, waking up on the road and grumble eyed making their way to mountains again.  You wish desperately you were there.

Count the days until you see them again.