Less Preferred Seating

School days	spending hours
confined with others
dripping hormonal hours of hyper-alertness
changing forms
hours of second guessing
self preservation conservation breath holding
Miles and miles of bus endurance
Rise from the red leather seat
with round piped edging
cold and hard in the winter
sticky in the heat of June
Bit squarely
you would find it tough
like overdone roast
retaining teeth marks
like bra hooks on tender flesh
Walk intently down the isle
past the invisible spectacle
monster bazookas
crouched down with a boy
knees up coats over all
what mystery within?
Glace away proceed straight ahead
like headlights
down the stairs
breasts encased inside sister’s
hand-me-down brassier

~ Gayle Sacuta

“A lot of time was spent riding the bus between ages 6 and 18. To ward off boredom we sang songs and played Crazy Eights, Cheat and Hearts. In high school we needed to drive to catch the bus to Wm. E. Hay Composite, in Stettler. I stayed in town with my Aunt Mildred for Grade 10, but I missed the security of home. For Grades 11 and 12, I moved back to the farm and continued driving to catch the bus.”

Read more of Gayle Sacuta’s poetry:
Sandy Field
Soil Stories
Vast Prairie Puja
Where Are You From?

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