Bus Ride
the chill of winter dawn creeps down my spine
as I stand there, blinded by the mist on my eyes,
waiting for the bus to take me to work.
it approaches hesitantly, but opens its doors just fine
the driver asks for my pass, and nods as I take a seat
I close my eyes since it’s a quiet ride
above me rests a large white sign:
“Children and Teens eat FREE on the weekends”
sponsored by a catholic church
it reminded me of a charity bus that used to drive by
every Friday, down the street of our neighborhood back home
the children ran up excitedly, as if it were an ice cream truck
the driver asked for my age one July
I said twenty-one
but she wrote eighteen, and handed me 3 plates
to my left, a flurry of snow is gently falling from the sky
caressing the glass, and suddenly melting
I realize I missed my stop, It’s sundown
APRIL TAMEZ
is a twenty-one-year-old student who was born and raised in McAllen, Texas. She utilizes her struggles as a first-generation Latina daughter to forge creative pieces that can be appreciated by others who have similar experiences. She aspires to create a connection with her Latinx readers by helping them realize that they are not alone in their feelings or trauma.