Only one seat left, so I thrust myself within it,
beating out another boarding passenger to win it.
Adjusting all my packages, I didn’t chance to look
at my seat mate, for her face was buried in a book.
I used a lull in traffic to begin a conversation,
but was cut off by the bite of her brutal tongue’s serration.
She sputtered without compromise or mercy or a pause
about what she surmised were my weaknesses and flaws.
Her words sprayed out in spittle, unceasing in their venom.
She criticized my hairdo and my shoe size and my denim.
Not a thing about me pleased her. She was brutal in her spiel.
Had I considered a diet? Was my hair color for real?
At the very next bus stop, I finally took flight.
Miles from where I sought to go, I fled into the night.
It must have been a curse or bad Karma or a hex
that I would end up in a seat next to my boyfriend’s ex!!!