i was at the edge-of-Detroit Northland bus stop, minding my own,
reading the novel i’ve crawled into lately.
figures he’d pick me out.
figures he’d hassle the one middle-aged white gal in the whole place.
It was a long ten minutes
with his ugly face in mine.
with his nasty lips talking shit in my ear.
i can still hear his dumb-assed air of non-existent authority:
“i asked you a question! are you stupid?”
i would have loved to fight him,
and younger me would have.
instead i had to sit there saying “leave me alone” and wishing the bus would come.
I’m glad two young men finally helped me out,
let me escape.
they looked like trayvon martin or michael brown.
nassy-man looked like cliff huxtable.
just goes to show, somethin somethin, but i’m too jangled to put it clear.
meanwhile, i’ll have this cut on my cheek and nick on my lip
for a week or ten days, i guess,
to remind me of my vulnerability.
a poem in three tenses for Real Toads mini challenge.