Yellow Bus

Beyond my porch, I watched a yellow bus

So like the one that had accepted me

Back then—when winter storms were dangerous

But on the bus, we had no sense of it—

No storm outside distracted from our laughter.

That's how it was: together, we could laugh.

Behind my car, I wrestled with the trunk

And forced a scraper out. My fingers burned

When raking off the frost that sealed the windows.

I got inside, and fumbling the dials,

I all but willed the heat to course my fingers.

In time they flexed, and then I joined the road.

The car was silent, save the hissing vents

And laughter revenant between my ears.