im watching a girl on the bus put on lip balm.
her hair is rained on and pulled into a tiny loop on the back of her head.
i feel connected to her because we are both wet and wearing lipstick and heavy shoes
she is pulling sunglasses out of her backpack and pulling a piece of hair off her face. she is sliding a pin against her head.
she moves her hands like someone is watching. I think we all do this.
I wonder if
girls are poetic because we simply are or because someone is always watching us. being a voyeur makes me feel less innocent.
but still I wonder what she is reading. i wonder if the lipstick she’s wearing is her favorite or if it’s just the one she had in her pocket today. i wonder who she is going to meet tonight.
When she’s getting off the bus she smiles at me and i feel at ease. i want to tell her she is beautiful but I remember that every time a stranger told me I was beautiful it has made me feel uneasy. so I watch her go and I am grateful