A Bus Ride  I'm on a large bus, which seems a bit like a plane. There is a central aisle with seats on each side of it. I sit next to my ex-girlfriend Annie Thomas. She is my girlfriend now. We're on a crowded freeway. My friend's father, Mike Reed, is driving the bus. I am confident in his driving. He is a smart driver: he doesn't follow too close and brakes ahead of time. Drinks are served. The stewardess is a black woman who wears heavy purple and blue eye shadow and eyeliner. She has slick black hair. She makes mistakes on the drink orders for my seat, and the seats in front of and behind my seat. She falls down into the seat in front of mine. I assure Annie that we're all going to make it there okay. I am confident and secure. The busload of people I am with are at a concert. I walk around an upper level of the concert looking down at the people on the floor. A lot of people are shirtless. It is daytime, I think, but I imagine a spotlight roaming the crowd and people going crazy when it hits them. I imagine myself when the spotlight hits me. There is a kid on the crowd bodysurfing. He is shirtless, but he is wearing a light blue shirt with the word "spooner" on the front of the shirt. I walk by a bunch of buses to find the bus I was on. I am carrying my green sweatshirt with a pair of my white underwear folded up in one sleeve of the sweatshirt. I walk on a ledge off the ground near the buses. I use the metal windowpanes of the buses to hold me up. I walk along the edge of the buses that are lined up. I drop the underwear out of the sweatshirt sleeve, and don't pick them up. A kid on the bus yells at me about the underwear. One bus I pass has a fire pole to slide down as an exit. Finally I get to my bus. It is turquoise and has dark seats and tinted windows. I know the driver's face: it is not Mike Reed any more. The other buses are orange.