…
that I needed to know, so I sat down on her other side.
Tell me where you’re going. Let me help,
I said. But I couldn’t untangle her string of slurs.
When the bus stopped at Jam’s Store, she left; I was left
trying to find the too-late words to save her,
if indeed she needed saving, which I have done so many times.
When it was my turn to leave, I turned to the woman
driving the bus and said, I hope she’s OK. The…