Visor down,
sunlight passes over features
wizened and eroded by natural time,
a stubbled beard
just pressing through leather skin,
creased eyes squint for that next fare.

The sanctity of the seat,
no longer moldable to any other rump,
caresses throughout the day
our Charon for the present,
trusted ferryman we offer our
plastic as payment.

A world of phantoms haunting this
concrete jungle, each a future
traveller at peace for their
passage to under worlds,
his darkened pupils absorb all
light and reflect serenity.