"What is Contributed"
By Mary Ruth Summers

We lived in a city and used to see the school buses and laughter in the early morning sun. We also had a bus driver tied to her wheel, which would stop us at railroad crossings, clunking us to the seats in front of us when she screeched at the last minute. The driver would say something from her seat, her eyes that talked, only illuminated from the rear view mirror, and we shared the ignorance of her mouth. Isabel and I shared the largest seat in the back of the bus, constantly throwing our butts in the air which slapped back down, like a mother bobbing her infant up and down to calm her baby. We would share eyeliners lit by matches she brought and holding a mirror in front of us, outlined our eyes. Returning from school, we would spend hours in rush hour traffic, voicing and signing words we picked up here and there. I haven't talked to her since high school. Read more Word Doc  Adobe PDF


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