JUST ANOTHER BOZO ON THE BUS

I’m sitting in the back, by the window, looking out and enjoying the view. I’m watching life pass by. It’s like a dream— lately I’m passing a lot of old friends—people I’ve known before. Some of them are standing by the curb waving. Others are going about their lives. I see a young family—husband and wife pushing a baby in a stroller. There’s a guy working, cutting some wood. There’s another guy driving to work—tying his tie—he’s late.

A woman is washing dishes. I see her through a window; she stops and waves. It’s Aunt Buzzy! The bus pulls up to a stop sign. There’s a parade passing. There’s a band playing. There’s a kid playing the trumpet—he’s fairly off-key—it’s me!

This reminds me of who I am—I’m just another Bozo on the Bus.