The Passenger


She teetered up the central aisle of the bus

in a pair of pale lemon patent 5 inch heeled shoes,

which picked out the lemon colour in the pattern of her blouse.

She wore tight, skinny, black jeans on her fantastic model-perfect figure.

A short, black leather biker jacket finished off the outfit.

Her hair had long careless, brown curls, complemented by blonde highlights.

Nothing careless about this hairstyle, it must have taken hours!

Shampoo, conditioner, curl control spray, styling wax,

ionic hairdryer, straighteners, hairspray and finally shine spray!

Her skin was an even, blemish free, golden tan colour,

but it wasn’t achieved by spray tans or from out of a bottle;

rather by birth, à white mother and an Asian father.

It gave her a lovely colour the envy of most of her paler friends.

Her small, neat, black leather, handbag was slung over her shoulder.

Two women on the bus commented loud enough for everyone to hear,

about the young woman’s very high lemon coloured heels.

She pretended not to hear, waited for the bus to stop,

then the doors opened with a swishing whisper of a sound.

Holding onto a safety rail with one hand, she lowered herself from platform to pavement.

Without a single wobble of the 5 inch heels , she made it look elegantly easy.

The whole bus watched her as she tottered with small, determined steps

towards the tram stop, just as the tram pulled into the Oldham Mumps station.

The soft swishing noise of the tram’s brakes accompanied her walk onto the tram.

The doors closed behind her, the tram set off, the vision of loveliness was gone.


© Tom Page – tram photograph.

©Carolina de la Cruz – The Vixen of Verse – 2015.


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