Bully

The city bus wheezes asthmatically
Between cars and lorries littering the street
Belching and inhaling fresh humanity
At every lurching stop

Pressed into a corner seat
Behind the central stairs
Too late I see him leering as he
Swoops intently on the space that pens me in

I’m gonna break your effing neck
He promises. I’m gonna follow you
When you get off this bus and
I’m gonna effing smash your face in

Staring through my shoes I recognize
The voice of my tormentor
The one who just the other day kicked me to the ground
In plain view of a helpless crowd as I waited for this bus

Something inside of me silently dies
I know now I will never leave this seat
But waking and sleeping I will ride on with this demon at my side forever
Replete he gives a wicked flash of nicotene and is gone

There is no victory of nonviolence this day
No glorious reconciliation no conversion of an enemy
Just an effing effing bully and a
Terrified eleven-year-old who will never ride this bus again.

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About Andrew Kreider

I'm a poet and musician,transplanted from London, England to beautiful northern Indiana. By day I am a stay-at-home dad with our three kids while my amazingly talented spouse conquers medical school one long shift at a time. At night, I'm a performer and trouble-maker. I love my life.

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