the ******* the bus looks like she fell into
a bucket of knives and my thighs
stick to the slick black seat
that's been soaking up the sun like
half priced liquor
the ******* the bus lives in my apartment
building and we take the elevator back up every single day floor three
then four
the ******* the bus cries next to me
because her little sister called her fat
last night
and her mom didn't argue
and I draw hearts for her in the foggy window tell her it will be okay
the boy in the next row over slides in her seat
calls her beautiful before sticking his hands up her shirt
and she's laughing him away
until the bus driver
tells him off after glancing in the rearview
after he gets off the bus
she tells me
she didn't know
how to tell him to stop
the ******* the bus talks to me about
metal music and her boyfriend
and Rob Zombie and then throws
the dead spider at me before I
chuck it out the window
the ******* the bus doesn't have shorts
cause there isn't enough money
so she rolls her jeans up in August and again in June
and next year, her mom tells me
in the elevator that the girls went to
live with their dad
or something like that
and all that's left on the bus
is the spray of thirteen year old boy
cologne
like Axe confetti with the windows rolled
up
while my thighs stick to the seat.