staring

i missed my bus this morning. i couldn't stop staring. a bad habit, i know, but i think averting ones eyes is also a bad habit. i was standing there, waiting for the 105 to come along after one passed me on my walk to the bus stop when a man of 20 years crossed the street towards me holding the hand of a boy of 5 years. they were both wearing chinelas, cheap rubber sandals, and here as much as anywhere in the world one can tell more about a man by his shoes than almost anything else. i was supposed to be watching for my bus, but instead i was watching the man of 20 and the boy of 5. i wondered if the man was his father, in which case i was a little impressed that he was caring for him, or maybe the man was his brother and they took care of each other, but more likely they were street companions--begging together, brought together by common circumstance. the boy of 5 flipped me off. smiled. then cursed and flipped me off again. the man of 20 had not noticed me or had chosen to ignore me. either way, i stood watching still. then the man helped the boy up onto a yellow bus that had pulled up and left him there. maybe the two didn't even know each other and crossed the street holding hands just because. or the man was going to wait at this bustop while the boy begged on the bus and would come back on another... a yellow bus... the boy of five... yellow bus... 8:15... damn. the 105. the boy of 5 just got on my bus and they drove away together. missed my bus. another will come soon. maybe in 8 min. but it will not have the boy of 5 on it, and the man of 20 has already re-crossed the street.