Back of the Bus, Please

Someone named "Big Duke" 
wrote "Black Power" 
on the back of the seat in front of me.  
How big does anyone feel
staring through the greasy circle
someone's head left 
on the window?  

Full volume on my headphones
and I can still  hear the gang of  black
teen-agers on the back of the bus 
jagging around about having guns. 
Someone sits in the vacant 
seat next to me, carefully taking 
up as little space as possible.
We never touch but I move 
against the window anyway.

A low, tight voice bounds 
down the aisle from the back 
of the bus saying "shit, 
that nigger bitch's nose is so big, 
she gotta blow it with a beach towel."   

I turn and see the only black girl on the bus
sitting right next to me.  Her pink 
eyes have dark centers and pale
pools trembling in their corners. 

I was about to laugh until I saw her -- 
saw her as my big white teeth 
yellowed in a chlorine smile
that I can't believe I was capable of. 

I wish her color could crack and shatter
like curls of soft chocolate sprinkling
behind her as she skates on a huge white cake
big enough to share with everyone forever
and her hair is an articulate blond braid
and everyone's clapping.
And she has a car, a dependable car
and would never need a bus again.

Looking out the window,
I see a piece of the sky 
trapped in a puddle:  
impossible blues 
and sorry whites 
dissected by power lines ~ 
the dirtier the water, 
the clearer the reflection.    



copyright 1994 kathy jo kramer