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the bus ride
by Angela Thomashe sat across the table from me and i could feel
the awkwardness spread like the butter melted
into the white wine sauce a moment before hitting
the plate. i was creating a romantic little scene
for just the two of us. candles flickering, fresh
picked bolted basil for flowers. but his eyes looked
like the condensation must feel on the other side
of the wine glass. part of the party, but clearly
not invited, foreign, unknown, confused. he steered
the conversation towards a cliff and then plunged
it straight over the edge towards certain doom.
i hid in the bathroom and cried. when he tried
to wrap his arms around my body, i recoiled as tho
burned and stopped it with a single word, 'leave.' 08/01/2012 Posted on 08/01/2012
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 08/01/12 at 08:17 PM I guess you did what you had to do and the write is well done. I can only recall a one was but ride from Baltimore to Detroit and girl who got on the bus when I did and off somewhere in Ohio. I had my arms around before she got off and she asked me to stay. But I didn't feel I could. Who knows maybe to bad for both of us. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 08/12/12 at 11:59 PM I love this story, and I love how sharply and quickly it pulled me into my own similar stories. That's not to say this isn't unique. It is. It's just a nice bonus that it has such a wonderful knack for striking so many different chords. |
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