Why I was late today, and will probably always be late as a black woman

My father begged me to never take the bus
And like 1950 something
All the negroes are sitting at the back of this one
Coincidence, I am sure
But one of us negroes is drunk and loud and vulgar
He boasts about his time in jail
And this negro throws the other N word around like a Jim Crow boomerang
And I feel my skin get hot
All that melanin
Absorbing the sun but
Still reflecting off each other
It’s blinding such that we become indistinguishable to others
And I fear that the beige ears and blue eyes in front of me are thinking we are all drunk and loud and vulgar
My brown eyes catch the brown eyes of the sister next to me as we confide in each other
Our silent shame
We know they hate him
I think they hate us
I start to hate myself
And I too hate him for making me hate myself again
I think