A bus ride this week,
on the short-bus that takes the long route
along the water,
and a smiling driver (who offers transfers
to those forgotten-bus-pass-engers)..

plays some happy Jack Johnson song on the radio
just as we begin to really cruise
(bouncing, bouncing)
next to the lazy, long beaches
(who, though cold, stretch their logs, enjoying
the sun and chill, roll around in their
long, late mornings).

and we wind with the road up through the trees, gaining
height, and stolen glimpses
of the flat water.

For this ecstatic moment, I am fooled completely

into calm.