Occasionally Moments of Lucidity Wash Over Me Quite Unexpectedly

An Afternoon Walk

They were watching.
That day the buses did have eyes;
I wasn't imagining.

Pencil orange, pencil yellow
all angled parked
under the oaks.

I walked five steps ahead,
trying to pretend they weren't mine.

Until he caught up with me,
grabbed my upper arm:

"Too good to walk with us?"

I never saw his face,
but I knew the grin,
false grin,
squinting around the eyes,
not looking at me,
but looking around for other adults.
Speaking from clenched teeth.

I looked to the buses;
saw only blank shadow windows.
But I knew they were watching.
The knot hot in my throat.

Miriam the next day: Was that your dad?
Miriam ten years later: We thought he worked thirds.