Carolina Bus Stop

A corner patch of dirt and trees, the holding

area where a batch of us waited, measuring

the most vulnerable parts of each other

On the first day, my accent wasn't right, my

hair too short, my name the perfect punch line

I shuffled between boys who kicked at my heels

One day forgetting it was picture day, I wore

rolled up jeans and a powder blue short sleeve shirt,

surrounded by frilly dresses and laughter

Another day my tee shirt sprayed red

when Jimmy practiced jumping on ketchup

packets, perfecting his aim

The final day, the one that would define me

where mother made me wear a jacket,

I knew wouldn't stack up

And I cut across the yard and hid behind

a bush, watched the bus go by, measuring

myself in the silence after they were gone

Reviews

[Misery]

Intriguing. A poem that does not seem like a poem, yet I can sense the poet's emotions and I cannot stop reading. A fine creation, dear poet.

[Linda]

I remember this day well, when all of a sudden you came in the sliding door pretending you had been at school all day. It was around 10:30 in the morning, I guess time had been moving very slow behind that bush!

[Kristina Moulaison]

Thanks for the review! :)