Good morning, Donny.
No, not really.
My kid needs braces on her teeth.
My car needs a transmission job.
My wife wants me to take her to Florida, but I'm behind on the mortgage payments.
My uncle called from India, and he needs money for my niece's wedding.
And I got this strange rash on my back.
How about you?
Ready to roll, Paterson?
When you're a child, you learn there are three dimensions.
Height, width, and depth, like a shoe box.
Then later, you hear there is a fourth dimension, time.
Your poetry is really good.
And someday you might let the world read it.
Look me in the eye.
You are a great poet.
Hey, yo, that's the English Bulldog, right?
A dog like that get dog jacked, my G.
Well, it gives me something to look forward to then, I guess.
You drive the bus, right?
Is your name really Paterson?
My real name is Paterson.
Well, that's kind of crazy, right?
I'm working on a poem for you.
A love poem?
Yeah, I guess if it's for you, it's a love poem.
I had a beautiful dream.
We had twins.
All your poems are still in that one notebook, your secret notebook.
I go through trillions of molecules that move aside to make way for me, while on both sides trillions more stay where they are.
This is Paterson, Bus 23.
I have a situation.
The damn thing could have exploded into a fireball.
I could be realizing my dream to be a country singer.
Nashville, here I come.
Look out, Nashville.
Do you think there are any other anarchists in Paterson?
You mean besides us?
Without love, what reason is there for anything?
Well, he's not gonna do anything crazy.
Everything he does is crazy.
A bus driver in Paterson.
This is very poetic.
I got my ass kicked today.
Who are you playing?