Sunday, April 3, 2011

Yes anyway

I gave her a ride from the train
Station to Burnside, a tall woman
With brown curly hair, maybe 40
I’d just hugged Barb goodbye
Told a last joke about puddles and said
I love you and she said “Are you headed
To Burnside can you give me a ride?”
All in one question and I looked
At this stranger and felt afraid and
Ashamed that I wondered
If she had a gun in her purse
And said “Yea, sure” in spite of myself
And before I knew it
She was buckled in next to me
And for seven blocks, we made
Halting conversation
About the first sunny morning
In six weeks and her mother
Headed back to Port Townsend
And how much she liked living on 22nd
And for the whole seven blocks
I wondered if I’d get out of this alive
And felt ashamed that I trust so little
And she unbuckled the seat belt
Before I even came to a stop at the light
And thanked me with a shy smile
And striding off around the corner
Was out of sight so quickly I wondered
If she was a messenger sent to remind me
Of a different way to be in the world

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