The poet is rich but lives in a poor neighborhood.
The neighborhood expands and the poet’s wealth grows
the better he gets. One day, on the bus
he realizes no one speaks his language,
though everyone knows what he knows.
He watches mothers with babies
struggle to pay the fare,
the black bus driver playing mom, calling out
to the Central American who might miss her stop—
people look around. She isn’t there.
The bus keeps on going and people
from different parts of the planet keep piling on.
The poet leans into his phone listening to a song.
The bus driver playing mom is having trouble driving the bus.
We are all going to be late.
Crossing into a white neighborhood
the poet sees a church with a sign that says, “Stop Hate.”
The poet is rich. No one speaks his language.