Woman at the bus stop,
I'm watching you.
Your wait time
is my ode time.

Woman at the bus stop
on a weathered bench
all alone,
this urban lady
yawns
and pets her cellular phone.

Second week of September,
and sick of watching my waistline
hanging out across the street
I'd much rather be,
really
that is all of me,
... watching
You.
Awkwardly.

Woman at the bus stop,
your chest is gilded with chains
and your skirt's too short
from across the street.
Something about you
that's not all together right,
lipstick and aura,
both seem too bright.

Woman at the bus stop
plastic and gold,
one second you got it together
but your gestures
make you seem so
old.

Woman at the bus stop,
I stop for you!
Your wait time
is my ode time.

Woman at the bus stop,
take off your clothes!
But pray thee
leave the 'clinky' gold on
cuz...
because...
that way you'll look crazy,
but not past you're prime.

Woman at the bus stop,
your ride is here.