A pink pen
To put in my pocket
And match my pink lips
And earrings
A boy-blue flannel
To tuck into
My high-cuffed jeans
And bare my long tube-socks
A woman who sits
Behind me
Who sat next to me (a month ago)
And looked at me
And smiled
A woman who sits besides her (now)
And tells her a story
About how she’s forgetful
My turn to get off the bus
And stand, and twist my hips
To make her look
And tell a story
About how she remembers