chaos.

Are you the cuddlin’ or the clingy type?
…oh, you perfect…I’m the same way. 
That clingy shit lets me know that you love me…

The “you perfect” made me chuckle under my tartan-printed scarf and peacoat, a shade over ten years old. I’m not supposed to be hearing this man cupcake with his maybe-turn-into-something. I usually wouldn’t, my tangled headphones playing the same five songs over and over in hopes to drown out the noise – and cupcake sessions – around me. 

Pining for love ain’t the only thing you hear on the last bus route from work. On the off chance I’m not listening to a podcast or those same damn five songs,  I’ll hear some lady waxing off about a boss who gets on her very last nerve or a kid talking to his friend about the almost-fight that popped off on Facebook. Baby moms yelling at “daddy” about switching up the schedule. Somebody has to watch ‘little man’. Her livelihood is dependent on that. Clicks and clacks of acrylics or the faint – hopefully – sounds of some young rapper I’m not familiar with even though he sounds just like so-and-so “Lil” and “young” such-and-such. The ping of the alert telling the driver where to stop and doors that open and close at-his-or-her will. Sounds I escape from because they remind me of where I am and don’t want to be. 

Here. On this bus, in this city. Anywhere but here. That’s where I am. 

…i wanna go to Philly but shit be ratchet out there… 

Baby boy’s on parole. This parole officer told him that he can now travel out of the jurisdiction as long as he lets him know. Philly isn’t ratchet. It’s a beautiful city with beautiful people, folks who make up half of my DNA. I still have an accent, something I couldn’t shake thanks to my Mom’s birthplace and my Dad’s decision to move us just far away from a Chocolate City whose accent is as discernible as a zebra in a room full of cheetahs. You’ll be prey in that city too if you ain’t built for it. I think the same about Philly. Chew-you-up-and-spit-you-out types of tough. I didn’t develop the genes of grit and toughness. I wish I did. My toughness comes from falling down and getting back up, but with knees and elbows bleeding with now festering wounds ready to explode. Painful shit from top to bottom. I didn’t want to learn that I could withstand lots of things in the manner that I did. At least in this city, there’s a cushion ready to brace your fall. 

So Philly may not be the best place to avoid chaos. Chaos will find you. 

Buses are chaotic. That’s why I play those same five songs to escape.