There's a racist on the bus

It's always those Niggers holding things up

sudden silence washed over the small space as destructive as a tidal wave
invisible until suddenly reaching the beach of onlookers to crash down on them with devastating force

no one wanted to look
or acknowledge the man with the hard eyes and steel colored hair who had hobbled awkwardly into their presence

his cane gripped tightly in one arthritic hand
knuckles rounded with swelling as though he were an unfinished sketch
disjointed collection of misplaced orbs holding together stick like limbs

though someone did dare to mutter some small comment under their breath in relation to the state of the world today

but it was small and quickly lost in the noise of grinding gears as the bus strained onwards

the fear that came was a strange tangible thing
a sound of everyone holding their breath
waiting, but not at once to turn and look as this old man grew into a monster in their minds

how they wished too
but would not dare to speak out against him for fear of being persecuted by his words

to be labeled
branded Jew lover

he spat and cursed as the bus labored to a stop
gnarled fingers gripping the seat in front of mine

offering a hand only to be greeted with that look of sheer contempt
as though touching my flesh might somehow contaminate his views with mine

silently watching as he struggled from the bus muttering obscenities
feeling only pity for his narrow minded way of life as our eyes met but once as we passed one another

ignoring the sudden outburst of angry noise from those around me
I pulled out my pen