Yield

Then sometimes you think of Pearl Jam,
a forgotten teenage treasure, the whining 
and wailing in tune with young angst.

On the school bus,
the rhythm and hum of Yield, as we
Stop 

near a sign at the side of the road,
the metalheads kicking
a rucksack down the hill,

a small girl with taped-together spectacles and holographic boots weeping,
gathering her smelling pens in the bushes,
learning to yield.