You Made Me Brave Poem by Brian Rihlmann

I remember in New Orleans,
we walked from our hotel
down to the rails
on St. Charles Avenue
and waited for the streetcar.

When it stopped
we climbed in
to the already packed car,
and a flood of bodies
poured in behind us,
a crushing weight
trapping us inside.

Your eyes were wide,
your breathing shallow,
and if I'd been there alone
I'd have clawed my way
up and over the heads of that crowd
and jumped out the damn window.

But I smiled,
put my arm around you,
and squeezed a little,
whispered in your ear,
"It's ok."

You looked at me,
took a deep breath,
relaxed a bit,
and we rode those rails
all the way down to the Quarter.