ALLEGORY Poem: At the Bus Stop, by Chase Wilson

I met a boy the other day
as I waited for the bus.
He was cruel and rude,
and hurt and afraid,
and kind and funny,
and aloof and unaware,
and smart and wise.
He spoke to me, sometimes
loud and crass, sometimes
fearful and quiet, sometimes
hopeful and contended.
He told me who I was and would be,
I could only laugh.
He told me his destination,
but he did not know the route.
I asked if he needed help,
But he told me he’d figure it out.

I met a young man today
on the bus.
I thought he was looking out the window,
but he was looking at,
no,
to me.
He asked a lot of questions,
good ones, bad ones,
easy ones, hard ones,
and ones I didn’t want to answer.
I asked him about himself.
He knew the route,
everyone had told him.
He just couldn’t remember his destination.
He was frantic.
He wanted to get off
as soon as possible so he could
read a map or ask someone else.
I told him to look outside
and watch the world go by.
To lose himself in the rolling hills
and shimmering lakes.
To cherish the darkest tunnels
and suburban sprawls.
“You’ll know when you see it.”

I’ll meet a man soon
as he gets off the bus.
I won’t know his route, and
I won’t know his destination, but
I know he’ll know why he’s arriving.
I’ll ask him many questions,
but I’ll also ask a lot of him.
“Remember who I was and who I am,
and understand us.
Forgive us when I make mistakes.
And please, tell me. Will I
really
know when to get off the bus?”
I’ll see him out the window,
standing in the cool November air,
and all he’ll do is laugh.

Author: poetryfest

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