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There's a Whole World on a Bus
by Mary Langer Thompson

Is that you, Frida, on the far right,
dignified, yet free as wind blowing
the scarf around your neck,
next to the prosperous man
clutching his money bag,
next to the boy enjoying the scenery
of the Mexican streets,
next to his breastfeeding mother
staring adoringly at the baby,
a child you'd never have,
next to the worker in coveralls
grasping the handrail that would pierce you
in the streetcar collision
that would rip off your dress
and leave your nude body
covered with blood and powdered gold
from an unseen housepainter
before you proved you would endure
and paint even while dying?

There's a whole world on a bus.

   After "The Bus" by Frida Kahlo 1929  

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