Piss Lady

The hours get to me, they're just a bunch of hollow empty clicks. The seconds are pinpricks and the wasted days are hammers beating on my spine. A garbage can full of crumpled up paper and snotrags are the weeks and the months require nothing more than me asking "so how much blood did I shit?" And the years? Fuck the years. The waste is bulldozer-worthy.
Today, much like every other day, I ride the bus to work. And three out of five times I manage to get on the bus with a homeless woman that stinks like a park toilet that has been shit in, puked upon and then pissed on with mold growing all around the throne. And no one cleans it for 20 years. When I get on the bus and smell this stench, I look for her and I pinpoint her. She looks like my dead grandmother. And I mean, if you exhumed the body of my dead grandmother, stench and all, add some fat, that's her.
Everyone holds their noses on the bus ride. And when she gets up to get off at the corner of Michigan and Chicago, the smell that was slightly contained by her ass is released and on days that I have a hangover I have to choke back vomiting. I pop gum and inhale through the collar of my shirt.
Today she was on the bus going to work. Many times I catch her on the bus going home. But today she was going downtown. Someone cut her hair and replaced her walking stick (a busted two-by-four) with an actual cane. Aluminum and rubber.
One night I was on the bus and everyone gravitated toward the back. Everyone had their noses covered and laughed and said "wow".
Yeah, "wow".
One guy pulled out his Axe spray and sprayed it into the little air that was in the bus and I gagged on the stench of hell and body spray. If the advertisements were true, this troll of a woman would be humping this guy's chest, but she could do nothing but drool and allow her neck to just be limp and hang and lolligag everytime the bus hit a bump. Her head is thrown back and then she tries to smile. Maybe in her mind she's on a rollercoaster back when she was a kid being happy with a father or mother next to her.
I can't imagine that this woman would want this life. And assholes like me turn it into dipshit blog fodder.
Her heart beats and she has the skill to get on the bus and pay the fare. And yet she becomes a conversation piece..
"Man this old woman stank!"
Obviously someone cleaned her up a bit because she was wearing a yellow coat that stunk of piss and sweat and rain and now she has a black coat. Still stinks but someone made an effort and then released her.
I don't know anymore. If I had any sanity of my own, I'd give her a piece and then I'd give her a mirror and my guess is that she'd like the gun to end it all.
Maybe she's happy and doesn't give a fuck.
Maybe she's taking revenge.
Maybe no one gives a fuck about this woman just like they don't give a fuck about themselves.
Maybe we should drop the equalizer bomb and she could be the next leader of the roaches.