I would not let her love me.

My father, who knows?
Was he there?
He did not come forward.

My mother,
Ready to embrace me goodbye
Before I climbed into the bus,
Was also ready to be rejected.

And I did,
Never liking affection,
Shown in public least of all.

When she stepped towards me,
Her arms already in flight,
I stepped back, my head alerted
To those standing with others.

I told her not to wave
At the window of the bus,
And she did not.

But her face did.
Over and over, over and over,
In the faces of later women
Not wanting to stay.