Disabled, Handicapped, Slow (for Deb who hated waiting at the stop)

February 04, 1993|By Colleen M. Webster

The short bus

this morning

made me wince.

I would send

a long one

just so you would

feel better, not like

only a half-student

part person.

Guess I drove

you away

with my short words,

made you feel

like you didn't

have it all,

or at least

enough for me.

You are my friend.

So I am sending

this long poem

all the long way

to you

because I cannot

send a bus.

This is coming


as I am slow

to show love

with words

and, like a bus,

make several stops


and depositing

people along

my route.

Almost nobody


through it all

to the end.

You are not able

to walk away,

but are handy

at touching hearts,

and slow

to anger

If this poem

this long poem

can find you,

pick you up,

maybe you will

stay on

through it all

with me

the bus driver.

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