Tryst

The uncommon charades of certain urban girls
In time-tested trades: Purple Plum lipstick and
A black racer-back dress, the gentle game
Lies in her allure.

Distracted, I, watch her walk as I am carted away
By mass transit, this bus where dirty old men
Sit beside me, unshaven and unbathed
For an undefined time.

I imagine her flavor curling out
In some flowery perfume
Or the smell of cheap hair spray
And the crumple of half-used clothes.