i have let my life pass
me by without asking for a
                                                    stop.
the bus —
crowded with hardened men
crying, helpless children
laughing, graceful women
drifting — doesn’t
                                                    stop.­
every light glimmers by—green—
illuminating my path to growth,
but my red hair
red blood
red heart
ignite the invite to
                                                    stop.

so i pull the cord
i interrupt the glares
i stumble out of the bustling confusion
i light onto solid ground

and i, beamingly,
ask myself if this is a
                                                    stop
                                                               or
a start