The Martyr of the Bus

By: Nikki Singh

 

When they were both in first or second grade,

She always with her golden spaniel played:

Foot races and then fetching the Frisbee

Or chasing the other around a tree.

If not for Him, She would have missed the bus

For He stalled the driver who made such fuss.

 

Later, in midst of sixth or seventh grade,

She always on her algebra delayed:

Define unknowns and equations complete

When the graphs of their lines together meet.

The driver still railed and with a glower frowned

Unflinching He remained and stood his ground

 

And then in their sophomore or junior year,

She hoped her mascara would deign not smear

When She donned a red top with beige-white jeans

And a hair ribbon of silvery greens.

Yet there He waited for her tardy stalk,

Smirking at the driver's scolding talk.

 

Countless times the driver was vexed and riled,

But martyr-like, He endured and only smiled,

Knowing chivalry would not die with Him

Even with patience thin and prospects dim.

He stood heroic: One foot on the grass,

One on the bus step where the door would pass.

 

One fine misty morn the bus did not come,

But She heard the rumble of a car's low hum

And found the yellow bus had not been there,

But instead a sleek white Porsche met her stare.

He smiled, nodded ascent, and said She may,

So She climbed inside, and they rode away ...

 

* This was directly inspired from a particular situation in The Exiles by some author.  The book is about four sisters.  One seen which I shall never forget is when the girls have to go to school.  They are invariably always behind schedule.  The only reason why they do not miss the bus is because their neighborhood friend, a decent boy named Martin, heroically stands with one foot on the curb and the other on the first step in the bus.  Of course, such a position puts the driver in a difficult spot, and so the driver is required to stay in place and not drive off.  It is a mystery why Martin does this favor for the girls because they never really repay him for his help.  But whatever.  I thought about how this poem could apply to the twenty-first century and all.  I like it--somewhat, especially the Porsche twist.  I have always had the fantasy of riding in a sleek, low sports car.  (July 9, 2006--finish date; begun much earlier)

THE POETRY GARDEN

FROM THE EDITOR:

Starting in January 2007, Jenn Fagan will be taking over as Editor of THE BLIND GRIND!  As Jenn works very closely with Youth Services, she will be a true asset to the newsletter.  You can submit your ideas for publication to Jenn starting in December 2006. Send your ideas and thoughts to jfagan@bism.org or you can fax them to her at 410-737-2689!