cranberry juice on a

dirty gray

bus seat.

crimson stains

never disappearing

simply fading

until there's only a faint scar

spreading, spreading

every time the road gets rough.

it will be there, always.

droplets of sweet

redness

rolling down, down

down

splash on the floor and

splinter into a thousand more.

maybe it will touch someone

and they'll know

what it's like

to be stained.

their pristine jeans have a spot

of cranberry juice...

i wonder if they'll remember

it was from the

bus.