Waiting on the Bus

I walk fast past them.

I’m a pretty fast walker anyway,
But there’s something about a
Congregation of high schoolers.

They’re just waiting for the bus
And I’m a ghost to them
Flying past,
They don’t notice, or move off the sidewalk.

I rode the bus to Austin High,
When I get past the intimidation factor,
I remember Derek and deShawn,
His mother died very young of cancer.

That was a long bus ride.

Then, there was Tanesha and others,
I can’t quite remember all their names,
(It’s been a few decades)
Busting out impromptu rhymes
Before class.
I witnessed this,
A part of the circle,
Though I never threw in the a comment,
As those around me felt free to do.

These kids, I walk by,
They talk some, but most also stand alone,
Isolated in their own headphoned world.

Of course, it’s just the beginning of the school year,
Maybe they’ll loosen up, too.