Encounter 1

They call my group

As soon as I pack up and move

A very important guest approaches

The two men by his shoulders

Cut the line

A sign that the guest is to leave first

I sigh… its the policy

I wallow in self-pity

How I wish to be of the city

Suited like him and dressed pretty

We take the bus

The guest does not leave with us

It’s simply not just:

Arriving last, he’s escorted to the first seat

Of a different caste, our eyes don’t even meet

I finally sit, angsty

Only to see through my window the taxi

In blue, waiting for him to take off safely

Encounter 2

From my seat I get to see the special guest

Unlike me he doesn’t stress

With his escorts, he can rest

Assured that he won’t lose his seat

The special guest has a different look

Dark yet handsome, it leaves you shook

He glances over, I read my book

Head down: I avoid being seen

Moments later, he takes a walk

The eldest escort, starts a stalk

To make sure, if any of us balk

We are put in our place

Finally, once the doors open

The special guest goes first, no words are spoken

I enter relieved, before our eyes lock momentarily

And I see a boy, wretched and broken

I figure he must be tired of his escorts

I pray that he find some comfort