jenifer's song

jenifer's song

the metal on the bus seat
was cold and stiff;
she sat down,
submerged herself in chords,
and struck up a thought.

the afternoon blend of conversations and strings
was lulling her out of her rage,
in the meantime she watched the streets fly by
and the people that looked as if moving out of sync-

we’re two of a kind,
she said to me.
you and i,
i couldn’t fall asleep last night,
and neither could i.

but as the bus continued
to slide down the avenues,
the attack fell on her swiftly.
all charm and manners forgotten,
she put a ladies good qualities aside
and with all that said and done she dawned the general’s coat
and marched gallantly towards enemy lines.

and because she was not familiar
with the art of war
jenifer's song was interrupted
by excited hands that
drew thick lines through her heaven.
she waved her arms at them,
they waved their arms back,
and little by little people got off on their stops.

but the interruption was small,
didn’t make it that big a mess at all.
so she put her headphones back on and fumed.

you see jenifer’s song
is what’s driving us along this bus ride,
it’s the woman talking loudly in her seat,
unaware of what anyone thinks
about the steady flow of glass pieces
pouring from her mouth.

and jenifer herself
is sitting three seats down,
on the left.
playing with the buttons in her hand,
flipping them over and over,
while the flowers on the ceiling are starting to sprout.

all the while she writes me,
and i smile at the thought
that jenifer’s song,
keeps on,
keeps on.
a foot tapping
back of the bus sensation.