notes from the bus stop, monday-friday

Written by Megan Conley

I am not tired yet of talking  about my colored body and so  you will still hear about it.  it is what I tend to worry about most days: this brown woman body  every morning my bus comes late when a car honks at me, I stare ahead I consider what would happen if they were to slow down or stop if men were to get out of the car sideways on the pavement, the empty parking lot on my left, I pretend I do not notice that I am a girl standing alone early in the morning along a strip of road this is a fact that is also a threat I tried to tell you this once, in line at the food court but we did not have enough time to talk about how  some facts have been threatening us our whole lives how my mother like all good mothers before her equipped me with diligence and suspicion which all women need to navigate life you might have called me crazy and what is a word like that to me? the facts will still be there in the morning while the cars roll by.