I thought the ride would be bumpier,
shorter than I thought.
All the other passengers were quiet.
The bus smelled of sweat, my sweat,
and something else I couldn’t identify,
The day was bright,
sun shining, warm, but not hot.
I didn’t see anyone along the way.
I kept my head down most of the trip.
I knew better than to make eye contact.
I could feel them looking at me.
I’ve been asking myself, “How?”
There was a lot of noise,
rattling, crying, swearing.
The bus stopped,
moved ahead a few feet, then stopped again.
I had to remind myself to breathe.
The engine went silent.
I looked up at the bricks, and wire.
It was, I don’t know, sparkling.
I looked back down
at my chains,
I was home.