Ode to Mrs. Parks

I am on a tour bus and an old man, who apparently missed the boat during the sixties, is arguing that the bus driver should sit in the back because he is black. He finally stops yelling and makes his way back through the cabin, yelling that I myself should get off the bus, at which point I have had enough. I scream him into a seat, then, quite satisfied with his shocked silence, I sit and look out my window, eager for us to be on our way.

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