I saw you on the train the other day. On your sweatshirt was only one print-on-label, simple, blue, in white letters it read, The Magic Bus. Thinking if that was your only jacket my eye caught your hair. Wavy, long, brown, and dusted by a Portland wind; I was surprised to see it reach your waist. It was hair most models put on wigs for, the hair girls in the 70s would die for.

Before I knew it, your eyes looked at mine. You seemed tired, your soul, seemed to me, to long for a constant home yet your body seemed weathered to call these rainy streets home. In quick sneaking glances I saw this, your blue eyes displayed no emotion; but hidden in that face was a story. Between your crinkles and your wrinkles in your sun-drenched skin, I smelled a hurt. I smelt sweet fields of sunny grass sprinkled with friends and love, till one day it was all gone.

Together your blank eyes and longing face told me you were tired and begging. You reminded me of the dog who had left one too many homes, had gone a little too long without his bed, or even his food. I thought I could almost hear a whimper escape your lips, but then I noticed something else, before that cry could escape a solid suffering stepped up to protect your hopes from being crushed once painstakingly more. Your body moved behind this wall; I wondered if you got some kind of comfort from that wall you had all set in practiced place.

Across the train aisle and four steps up with a simple green sweatshirt, a dark blue t-shirt, and one bag almost dragged along I watched you sway with the curves and turns of this city. Stealing glances as you looked at me straight on, I felt guilty for wondering what happened to your fantasy. I wondered where things went in your hippie days. I could hear your body long to drop its burden for once, but you wouldn’t let it go.

I wondered if that bad held your burdens in it. I pondered if you had talked to Lucy or had seen the hole Alice fell down so many years ago. Maybe you had met them, and maybe they invited you to stay; giving you a one way ticket to crazy land. Oh Mr. Hippie man, what tragedies had befallen you? Where were you going to sleep that night? Where were Lucy and Alice when you needed them?