that's the summer the war starts
the blood runs thicker
the nights go colder
but we're still so poor
so we huddle for warmth

that fall we must contribute to the effort
"all able over 18
must enlist"
but you're still so young and I worry so much
you join anyways

we thought it had been a cold summer
it was tropical compared to winter
your growing body wraps around mine
you're getting taller
(but I'm still not that small
you're just so
tall)

that spring the birds sing
the ground breaks and even though
the flowers are coated with blood
it's still
the most beautiful spring
I've ever seen

when they pull up to the stop
i am the last to get on
i sit in the front, with a good view
of the street
(i know the route by heart)
turn left at ryan road and
pass the old run down convenience store
broken and unwanted, like,
a mole on a hand-model's finger,
or perhaps me;
did you know that they all wave at each other?
the bus drivers, i mean
when they pass on the road
nothing meaningful, just
a quick wave of the hand
i see you there
doing what i'm doing
hey, buddy, why'd we pick this job
anyway?
there's a kid behind me who always kicks my chair
and the blonde ******* my left
glares at me from above
a paper-back romance novel
i try to smile, but
i don't think she wants to be my friend
(she laughed at me last year
from across the plastic cafeteria floor
and called me a witch
if i recall correctly)
when we pull up to the school
i pull out my phone
and pretend to be texting
(i don't even have a plan;
the phone's for music)
so that they all get out before me;
once i pushed ahead of a boy
in a snapback and sweatpants
and i think that's just about the bravest thing
someone from the front of the school bus
has ever done.