By Linda McCullough Moore
I intend to spend in a bus station
in Falls Creek, Pennsylvania,
where in 1956 my aunt Delores
– no, I didn't like her –
bought me peach pie, a piece
– yes, homemade – expecting
I'd be nice to her.
The waiting room, old then,
before these sixty years
my life. Gray lint, gum wrappers
bussed here from America,
something rumpled in the corner,
a ragged shirt a man from Lithuania
worked eleven hours for, wrinkled
tickets, a carry-all no one has opened
since the war before the war.
The ticket window's closed.
The tattered magazines named
Look and Life and Cosmopolitan.
(Why Men Pay for Love, p. 17.)
My mother will not wonder where I am.
The air is cold, old gasoline perfumes
rust on the radiator. No sound arrives,
no hiss, exhaust, no bus’s exhalation.
I‘m seventy-two years old.
I still have homework due on Monday.
My childhood wasn't much.
It's all I think about.
Linda McCullough Moore is the author of two story collections, a novel, an essay collection and more than 350 shorter published works. She is the winner of the Pushcart Prize, as well as winner and finalist for numerous national awards. Her first story collection was endorsed by Alice Munro, and equally as joyous, she frequently hears from readers who write to say her work makes a difference in their lives. For many years, she has mentored award-winning writers of fiction, poetry and memoir. She is currently completing a novel, Time Out of Mind, and a collection of her poetry. www.lindamcculloughmoore.com
Linda's other work on Foreshadow:
A Little Thing I Wrote (Poetry, October 2022)
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