Riding on the Bus: Write a poem based on a time you’ve traveled by bus – whether a school bus, around town, or a long distance trip to visit a certain destination.
I was riding the bus to Vermont,
northbound,
toward my sister-in-law
and the quiet promise of green mountains.
I always choose the aisle seat💺
freedom for my legs,
easy exits,
a clear path to the bathroom
when the road twists too long.
Across the narrow space of the bus,
another aisle seat was taken
by a man with restless elbows
and a sense of permission
I had not given.
Somewhere between towns,
while trees blurred into one long breath,
his hand crossed the invisible border∘₊✧─────✧₊∘
slipped into my bag of trail mix
as if it were a shared bowl
on a coffee table we did not share.
Before I could gather my shock,
before the words caught up,
he grabbed a handful
and chewed like it was his right.
When he reached again,
I pulled the bag back🛍️
my voice steadier than my pulse.
“You have your own snacks,” I said.
“It isn’t polite to reach into
another person’s bag.”
He answered in a whining voice,
soft as an excuse,
“But yours are healthier than mine.”
As if health were transferable by theft.
As if preparation were optional.
I told him
if he wanted better snacks,
he should have packed them.
Still, kindness🫶
that inconvenient reflex🤸🏻
rose up anyway.
I reached into my bag
and offered one last handful,
a small peace treaty
sealed in almonds and raisins.
He said thank you.
Two stops later,
he was gone💨
disappeared into another town,
another story I wouldn’t hear.
But the memory stayed.
Now, every bus ride after,
I hold my bag a little closer,
listen for the rustle of trespass,
wonder how easily
someone can mistake proximity
for permission.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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