on the bus

she called my name

on a random country road.

she flashed me signs;

they might have been morse code,

but it was her lips

and the way she moved her hips,

and her infatuating smile.

we stopped to talk for awhile.

what was there to lose?

she wore ruby slippers instead of high-heeled shoes

and tapped her toes,

pointing to which way the savage wind blows

and i stood there

in the brisk clear air

feeling her hand reaching for mine

on the firing line

dodging bullets aimed at my heart:

and perhaps the perfect time to start

life, which would prove to be my best friend;

of that i could depend,

and i cut the deck and drew my ace;

she said we should get out of this place

in her formal dress and my bow tie:

we hopped on the bus and never asked why.