“How far to your destination?”
“Can I give you a hand when you
arrive?”
“dame un mano, por favor”
Arriving at the bus stop.
“Could you help me with
my bags?”
For hours we travel on the
rough back roads.
Sweat forming on our brows,
“Could you open up the windows?”
Please.
It is much too hot, hoping
for rain, to take away this stifling
heat.
You turned to me and said,
“Do you mind if I leave you
at the next stop?”
You never needed my permission
Adios
You decided to take your life
Goodbye
Red Wolf Journal Spring 2014, and a fresh start
10 years ago
Posts
Pamela, this sounds like an eerie echo to what I posted today. Especially those final lines. There is mystery in your poem, almost feels like a secret, finally released.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
Pamela, I agree with Elizabeth...but know there are sometimes you need to give yourself permission just to let go!
ReplyDeleteElizabeth,
ReplyDeleteThere is a truth to this and it was so very hard to write. A very painful story.
Pamela
Mary,
ReplyDeleteYes, so true and hard to do.
Pamela
Bus people are so polite in Mexico. The only problem is heat!
ReplyDeleteDiane,
ReplyDeleteYes, the people in Mexico can be very nice.
Pamela