Foreigner

You ask my name, where I'm from, whether I'm married and do I have children. I know what you're doing, I know what you're thinking. You sit with your legs spread wide pushing up against my thigh. You look at me with hungry eyes, that you hide behind a red-toothed smile. There's three handles yet of course you choose the one above my knee, oh how subtle of thee. I tuck myself beneath a blanket of luggage, but I feel you peel it back with your gaze, it's too early for this bullshit, there's still morning haze. Does your four-armed flashing God at the head of the bus approve of you? A child occupying his Mother's knee stares at me from across the aisle. What does he see, what does he think? The bus hounds down the highway, beeping, braking, beeping, braking. My hair whips at my face. I make my escape and stumble to the back of the bus where other females reside, a life-vest of femininity among a murky masculine sea. I sit frustrated, staring down the aisle. Heads turn, I feel you all, like a swarm of crocodiles waiting, wading, beady eyes hovering above the head rests. You tell me I'm special, that you'll never forget me, you think I have power, you try to impress me. I don't care for your assets, your cars, homes and gems, I can't grant you citizenship to my homeland. No I won't come stay with you. I want to climb out the window, but I push through you all. The door is so close when I feel your hand brush with pressure high between my thighs. Your oblivion is staged, but my anger is not. You think our contrasting skin is some excuse, you think our differing genders is some game. You honor the cows to which roam free, but you're void of respect for someone like me. I escape the bus and fall into familiar arms. He removes the black soot from my face, but your behaviour selfish man, is a unforgettable disgrace.