No one's ever made fun of me to my face
except once while running for a bus
at 3 AM,
there was an old waiting bum by
the subway entrance on Broad & Oregon.
The gnats and flies vibrated
in the halo around him,
but I paid him no mind,
and just before the C bus doors clipped my heels,
he howled (it's the 4 now) "You're one dumb mother fucker."
The bus was empty, but I couldn't find a seat.
Finally,
someone had said it.
I didn't have to fight it tight-eyed, there were
no more layers to sew up
like the lunaphobe petals of stinging memory.
I was one dumb mother fucker
on a 3 AM bus to my parents house
because I was bullied by
a handful of thousand-leggers
weaving through my bedroom drop-ceiling.
(The cat noticed them first.
One slid in, two more slinked,
and then a fourth
and I was dashing down Oregon Avenue,
unsure if a vast late night or insect infinities terrified
me more.)
I heard him bark again. "Dumb motherfucker."
(The bugs, probably.)
The bus driver tried to make conversation,
like "What's a young girl
like you..." and
I was answering in laughed gasps
unable to speak
'cause some homeless asshole
read me down through the spine
I felt him in my teeth
and he was metallic like
the smooth bench where
he perched
and every modicum of existence
I've had in anyone's memory,
I was there
clinging to my bus seat
watching all the clumsy, trembling mes slink
into closets of repression
and easy escapes
every bail out
but no take down,
balletic disgraces fueled by paranoia
I mean, my god,
no one can remember everything
but I wonder
what did that bum know?
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