Miss Carriage

She wore a skin-tight mini dress,
and heels that clack, clack, clacked.
Dry skin on her knuckles,
sore and crack, crack, cracked.

She lit up on the train.
And all the people stared.
She drew it in and blew it out.
And all the people glared.

She stood up very suddenly,
and wiggled like a worm.
Her mini dress twisted tightly,
On a belly at full term.

She waited for the train to stop,
she didn’t sit back down.
She waited for her train to stop.
To stop.
To stop downtown.

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