The School Bus Ride

School bus driver Releases the squish of her air brakes With a lurch from knees and chest Clunks the bus into Park Lowers her red head into the matchsticks of her dry hands Rolls the meatballs of her eyes between her thumbs And quietly says Help me God reaching for her cigarettes. Out of habit she takes one last glance Into her rearview mirror Seeing the blond hair of a kid Sitting in what should be the empty back. The driver tears down the aisle to her own childhood Kindergartner sitting with her precious hands Balanced like tea cups on her knees Her pretty dress that her mother picked Is the color of bees teasing flowers Her blue eyes dazzling She has a worried smile drawn across her face Squiggled there by dad in the morning. She doesn’t speak a word The driver takes her by the hand And walks her to the garage to make The Call. There’s been a terrible mistake The driver’s boss says over the phone To mom then dad both at work.