Thoughts travel in circles like the buses around town. Up then down; up then down. Where am I today? Where have I been? I’ve been to the tops of mountains. I’ve swam through seas and tears, the water bobbing gently. Up then down. Up then down. Like the time when we were in the hot tub, just you and I. Silently whispering about what our perfect house together will look like. You smiling at just the thought of me– us. Or like the time I whispered I’d marry you, and silence screamed back. Up then down; up then down. I travel the buses around town just to see where I have been. The restaurant on first. The bed on eighth. The boutique around the corner, but most commonly, the clinic on main. I’d take the elevator to see her. Up then down. Up then down. The docs never had good news. Another round of meds, another round plate of bland mush, and another round of hopelessness. The morphine drip. Up then down. Up then down. You used to tell me that growing up was growing strong. You showed me growing old is growing soft. You told me to make a life for myself, but you just sat withering away in that beat up wicker chair, swinging on the porch. Up then down. Up then down. I know where the busses will take me. They follow their colored track on the map as perfectly as the users follow their crack line. We go down the same roads, the same bumpy roads I ride along everyday. Up then down; up then down. Take my word, my child, there will be a day to come that you will take your chances. You will be free and loving. You will make a name for yourself, my dear, and you will know what it means to live. Someday, love. Someday soon.