The exhaust hung thick and blue

The exhaust hung thick and blue

around the bus station entrance,

a cold wet kiss of diesel on my face.

My canvas bag, too thin, digging

into my shoulder bone, held everything

I thought I needed then.

Saw a kid today, same kind of bag,

same look like a gust of wind could

change her mind, or push her on.

Mine was a ticket to nowhere specific,

just away. The seat felt too big,

the window a blur of trees.

I was seventeen and scared,

but mostly, mostly

I was just going.