Dear Boy at Bus Stop

The ghost of you follows me

to this very day

It was the end of

any other day

we stood together

strangers bound

to similar routes

returning to our homes

You held a lollipop in your hands

like a promise

Your babyhooded eyes

gazed down

wondering if it was a treat

or a punishment

Your home was already here less a shelter

more like a cave of thorns

She laughed at your misery.

Called you names with her eyes.

Her tongue hit harder

than her hand.

I can still see your blurry face.

In another lifetime

I would choose to rewind time

And jump through space

To cover your ears

And twist open that sweet delight

to witness what happiness does to your face

For what does it mean

When a child isn’t seen

And what does it mean

When we can easily turn our cheeks

What does it all mean

If a woman can wield such power

To create beautiful things

In the same belly

She can create inherited suffering

Absent of any nourishing love

I got home and wrapped myself in a blanket

turned on the stove

put on a show

haunted by the thought

of you in that

empty

hollow

uninhabitable cave