Three Of Us

Three high school girls from very different worlds skip class to go smoke cigarettes.

Tall Hong Kong girl

Sucks glamorously on her cigarette.

Wispy me, my cocoa hair flattened by the rain

I glance to our friends' snow white Saudi turban

Wrapped elegantly along her coal black hairline

She gives me her cigarette, barely smoked

And I take it along with my own ashy stub

My olive shoes are soaked, the ground is puddles.

Few meaningful words are exchanged

Between the three of us, hardly dressed for the weather,

Hong Kong calls me a punk, she loves my attitude

And this is the most fun I've had since I moved.