Departure by Bus
 
Odd, that one could almost think
That anyone would do,
Or that such an accident would give
The stories I've given you;
 
Perhaps we had met before
As equals, in the street:
Now I looked down on you
From my tinted window seat.
 
You were on your way to lunch
Or pursuing nameless errands,
Hastening toward a tremulous love
Or just trying to get your bearings;
 
You were black or you were white,
Happy, or secretly grieving;
The light was clear above our shadow,
You stayed on and I was leaving.
 
But all these years I've followed you
In the streets where memories dance,
And only now can I admit that you
Looked up, returned my glance.
 
 
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