TRANSPORTED
The transport - imposing, loud, on time.
Rising smoke, intoxicating black cloud.
She steps past the tracks, onto the platform.
Ebonic eyes float up to her waiting kin.
She ascends the steel stairs, as hearts
Beat faster, and shyness slides behind
Mom and Dad. Dark braids, high cheeks,
Red lipstick - all envelops her mystique.
Melodic voice, a fashion designer. She
Arrives from the Big Apple - New York City.
She seems quite like Auntie Mame,
And Like That Girl, cute and single.
She’d collect Egypt, Africa and Europe;
Display them and marry a movie star’s son.
Like Brady Bunch Jan, she interests me.
The transport leaves its tracks behind.
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