11 quarters these days

i need to go downtown tomorrow. it will be my first bus trip in over a year. i am afraid, but i miss the bus. it's a fundamental part of my life that's been torn away. i'll be double-masked, exposure-wise it's going to be acceptable; i think i might be more concerned about the emotional fallout of getting a taste of the before times. i'm listening to Joe Metro, a perfect snapshot of riding the bus in Seattle that always moves me.

It's priceless, I write this, our lives are in crisis
Most talk, but don't walk, the path of the righteous
Despite this I measure each step
Walkin' closer to my final destination of death
When I'm layin' to rest, I'm only savin' my breath
The Northwest fills my lungs, heals the pain in my chest
Clutch the moment, a transfer in my hand
Still listening
Lookin' out the window to the gold and the green
And the sun might be shinin' but it's colder than it seems
'Cuz the weather's dialectical: there's no in-between