I deemed my life deprived
Having to ride the city bus
To college each day, class of 1970,
Forty-minute trip one way
Twice the time it would take by car.
Sweat on my forehead
Heavy smell of diesel fuel
Waved through the open windows.
Quarters and dimes
Clinked through the zig zag metal maze
To the bottom of the glass coin deposit
Accordion doors opened
I grabbed the side bar
Lunged up three large steps
Walked the narrow aisle between seats.
The bus in gear
I jerked off balance.
Patched, ragged shirts and jackets
Frayed hems of men's pants,
Large bags slung over shoulders
Bulging with groceries,
Books or an occasional
Newspaper sticking out the top.
No others dress for school
Just me with the aching heart,
And the stack of textbooks
Resting on my lap.
Fellow travelers,
Sat like chewing gum stuck to the plastic seats,
No conversation, not even about the weather.
Only my thoughts like whispers echoing in an empty church.
High Street approached,
I tugged the string above my head
To ring the bell.
Tires slowed.
The door opened.
Down the three large steps,
I balanced my books
Anchoring myself for the day
At the Big Ten school.
Center of camputs,
The oval, crisscrossed paths leading to
Old brick buildings
Wooden desks
Space for me to learn and grow.
Heels on hardwood
Announce the arrival
Behind the lecturn
A woman
In a navy blue suit
Ruffled white blouse
A vision of what I could become.
Back on the bus
A container of safety
And hope
Carrying me back and forth to class
Carrying me to freedom
No comments:
Post a Comment