Me and Darlene & The Very Big Bus
by khf
Only when the wind is full of piss and vinegar
and rain slaps the house with suicidal frenzy
dare I draw her into my memory
and venture back into our friendship
reckless from go
We courted risk
until
chaos, money and loss
converged
and left me stranded in its wake
But…
a powerful onslaught of primal feminism
was sweeping the country
A megaphone of outrage
A cry for equality
A call to be the storm raging over purple mountains majesty
Catnip.
And in we fell
lockstep with the mania
Foraging family histories for
moral support
justification
in truth…any old reason to activate our wrath
Darlene speaks
so gently
of her great grandmother
barely above a whisper
so tenderly
of her great grandmother—a southern slave
a story so sacred
of such gravity
it defies knowing
except by those
whose souls are embossed
with the agony
of ancestral debasement--
sweaty lesions of grief
branded on their breasts
breathing dead-life knowledge
into the spirits of
Black After-Women
Darlene’s sisters stand on pedigreed hurricanes
I don’t speak so gently
My tone ragged as the riptide
of ancestral defeat I flounder in
Women who disintegrated
silently
into the ether
as if they’d never been
My sisters hide--
bury themselves in the recesses
I can’t breathe
Time was
when Darlene stared down The United States Army
and did not blink
Did. Not. Blink.
I feared my own shadow
We were a misbegotten sorority of two
Yet
there we were
truant from stability
Bold. Determined.
Forging a path
Acting out a vague feminist principle
The only women in a crowd of men
Playing with a powder keg destined to blow
I can still see her
tooling down the Schuylkill
as if
she was born in the seat of that monster bus
On the other side of the moon
I was fending off Trailways Mike
with his smut-mouth
and his greasy hand on my knee--
cost of admission into manscape
We figured we were safe:
high scores
good skills
and the magical ability to laugh at crude jokes
…just like the boys
We had the secret code
We were in.
First Trailways Mike peeled off the shiftless
Then the dimwits
No worries.
We held the combination to the lock
We were polite
We smiled
We obeyed
So…
Of Course!
Obviously!
Definitely!
We Were In!
Only…
when we looked up
we were gone
Just like that.
Trailways Mike
booted us to the curb
In unison
Us--
still wearing our husbands’ too-long ties
and brand new man-pants with snappy creases down the legs
He fired us
Because?
Because?
Because Why?
The lawsuit
Chaos coming for a visit
and deciding to stay
The feminist principle fading fast as the blush on a dying rose
In the Court of the Disembodied
jesters and acrobats
sneering
in a cage-fight ballet
Brilliant performance art
Lies spreading like an oil slick on pristine waters
Who wins?
Who loses?
in the primitive dance of
cunning and display
Buried Women?
Silenced Women?
Marching Women?
No Women?
Our victory
still feels like failure
A foolish stunt
fashioned from hot air
and impulse
A melodic fantasy
that broke vicious
into a bare-knuckle prizefight
A knock-down-drag-out battle
for something I never even wanted
Seriously…
what was I going to do with a bus?
Strap on a tool belt and fix the engine?
Swab the latrine?
Clean up after the drunks?
There was no liberation in the win
No feminist triumph
No salve for the injustices perpetrated against women--
past, present or future.
Just looking-back regret
for time wasted
and harmony lost
This fact
is
the liberation
Now
when a mad windstorm blows through
and rattles the dust off that Trailways fiasco
I think of Darlene
With warmth
And hope
That all her bruises are long healed
and all the stars are still on her side.
Me…
that Very Big Bus
was a
Very Big Mistake.
I couldn’t even reach the pedals.
khf/11.3.22
by khf
Only when the wind is full of piss and vinegar
and rain slaps the house with suicidal frenzy
dare I draw her into my memory
and venture back into our friendship
reckless from go
We courted risk
until
chaos, money and loss
converged
and left me stranded in its wake
But…
a powerful onslaught of primal feminism
was sweeping the country
A megaphone of outrage
A cry for equality
A call to be the storm raging over purple mountains majesty
Catnip.
And in we fell
lockstep with the mania
Foraging family histories for
moral support
justification
in truth…any old reason to activate our wrath
Darlene speaks
so gently
of her great grandmother
barely above a whisper
so tenderly
of her great grandmother—a southern slave
a story so sacred
of such gravity
it defies knowing
except by those
whose souls are embossed
with the agony
of ancestral debasement--
sweaty lesions of grief
branded on their breasts
breathing dead-life knowledge
into the spirits of
Black After-Women
Darlene’s sisters stand on pedigreed hurricanes
I don’t speak so gently
My tone ragged as the riptide
of ancestral defeat I flounder in
Women who disintegrated
silently
into the ether
as if they’d never been
My sisters hide--
bury themselves in the recesses
I can’t breathe
Time was
when Darlene stared down The United States Army
and did not blink
Did. Not. Blink.
I feared my own shadow
We were a misbegotten sorority of two
Yet
there we were
truant from stability
Bold. Determined.
Forging a path
Acting out a vague feminist principle
The only women in a crowd of men
Playing with a powder keg destined to blow
I can still see her
tooling down the Schuylkill
as if
she was born in the seat of that monster bus
On the other side of the moon
I was fending off Trailways Mike
with his smut-mouth
and his greasy hand on my knee--
cost of admission into manscape
We figured we were safe:
high scores
good skills
and the magical ability to laugh at crude jokes
…just like the boys
We had the secret code
We were in.
First Trailways Mike peeled off the shiftless
Then the dimwits
No worries.
We held the combination to the lock
We were polite
We smiled
We obeyed
So…
Of Course!
Obviously!
Definitely!
We Were In!
Only…
when we looked up
we were gone
Just like that.
Trailways Mike
booted us to the curb
In unison
Us--
still wearing our husbands’ too-long ties
and brand new man-pants with snappy creases down the legs
He fired us
Because?
Because?
Because Why?
The lawsuit
Chaos coming for a visit
and deciding to stay
The feminist principle fading fast as the blush on a dying rose
In the Court of the Disembodied
jesters and acrobats
sneering
in a cage-fight ballet
Brilliant performance art
Lies spreading like an oil slick on pristine waters
Who wins?
Who loses?
in the primitive dance of
cunning and display
Buried Women?
Silenced Women?
Marching Women?
No Women?
Our victory
still feels like failure
A foolish stunt
fashioned from hot air
and impulse
A melodic fantasy
that broke vicious
into a bare-knuckle prizefight
A knock-down-drag-out battle
for something I never even wanted
Seriously…
what was I going to do with a bus?
Strap on a tool belt and fix the engine?
Swab the latrine?
Clean up after the drunks?
There was no liberation in the win
No feminist triumph
No salve for the injustices perpetrated against women--
past, present or future.
Just looking-back regret
for time wasted
and harmony lost
This fact
is
the liberation
Now
when a mad windstorm blows through
and rattles the dust off that Trailways fiasco
I think of Darlene
With warmth
And hope
That all her bruises are long healed
and all the stars are still on her side.
Me…
that Very Big Bus
was a
Very Big Mistake.
I couldn’t even reach the pedals.
khf/11.3.22