School Bus Boogie
In the morning they file out of it all crisp, clean, neat, voiceless.
Dressed in plaid uniforms, white socks, a variety of jazzy shoes, not speaking.
Hair fixed in a variety of “look at me” ways, with yarn, bows, beads and boxes.
Okay, I was kidding.
No one speaking.
In the afternoon as they leave the school, their voices have opened up.
They are like flowers whose petals were pulled off, thorny, loud,
The bus windows are pushed down with slams.
We teachers can hear them screaming, shrieking, laughing,
They holler at us from the bus. “Hey Mrs. K!” “Hey Mrs. A!” “Hey Mrs. Z!”
Their hair is askew, the adornments long gone.
They are on their way home, crazily happy, excited, and loud.
Headed to their video games.
In the meantime, we send prayers to the bus driver.
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