A Stranger of Sorts

For girls.

A Stranger of Sorts

Each day she is born on the corner,

and immersed in her pain, each day she is slain

by the prospect of spending another blue day all alone.

See the bus pulling up to the corner;

watch the young man with style, hold the door with a smile;

she gets on, as does he; so she hogs a seat window-to-aisle.

But his eyes say I’d love to love you.

I’ve lain awake at night

needing someone to love me too.

See the bus pulling up to the corner.

She steps off, street unknown, minus one fool alone.

Glancing back she repents as her self-loathing heartaches resume.

And he sits by the window, and he makes up a name.

He writes her a love poem, gives himself all the blame.

He is lonely and tired, in a number of ways

he’s sick of this game he plays.

Next day she’s alone on the corner

when her cold heart reports that a stranger of sorts

has been standing behind her in a storm of regrets of his own.

See the bus pulling up to the corner.

She gets on but he stays, glaring in while she pays--

and she stands there tormented, abhorring the ice of her ways.

Then her eyes say I’d love to love you.

I’ve lain awake at night

needing someone to love me too.

Now she gets off the bus at her corner,

and crossing the lawn, her spirit is drawn

to that same lonely chair in the chill of that same lonely room.

And she sits by the window and she makes up a name.

She writes him a love poem, gives herself all the blame.

She is lonely and tired, in a number of ways

she’s sick of this game she plays.