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she got on about three stops after I did 
I was sure she was conversant in ballet 
by the way she danced up the steps 
and delicately deposited her passage 
into the device next to the driver 

her fingers were disproportionately 
long and far too elegant for 
such tiny hands 

her nails were ornately painted 
with purple flowers on a white back lay 
she must have been very ambidextrous as 
each tiny fingernail looked exactly alike 

it was winter and there was about 
18 inches of snow in the lanes 
she wore white rubber boots 
the bus wore its annual tire chains. 

I was dressed in my traditional white tennis shoes, 
weathered blue jeans a white Eddie Bauer T 
and my socks were soaking wet 
from trying to dodge the slush 
near the bus stops 

she was enveloped in a long 
camel-hair pea coat 
and, crazy as it sounds 
a feather hat much like 
Robin Hood used to wear 

I thought I would depart before her 
as she asked for a transfer 

like a novice-carom-billiard player 
I almost fell flat on my backside 
when the bus shot off 
before I could grab the overhead rail 
as I lent her my seat 

the bus was lousy 
with swing shift laborers 
headed to the fish packing plants 
I one of them 

pangs of passion 
swelled deep in my heart 

and seeped through every pore 
I wanted to hold her in my arms 
and love her, nothing more. 

then she left, brushed close by me 
and the driver sweetly shut the door 
pain exhaled softly 
silencing a lion's roar 

with mangled mane (and vanquished pride) 
I knew not what to infer 
through toothless jaws silently cried 
my heart alone for her 

the seat where she once sat 
remained unoccupied 
save for her plumed hat 
that I stared at 
'til the end of my ride

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