Arkansas Clay

I watched a girl on the bus
she had legs of burnt sienna
covered at the thighs
with a denim skirt

she did not know how to sit in it
and I watched
brown thighs splay open
she pressed her face to her phone

I watched a white man
he had transfer stub in hand
an Aldi’s bag
beside his lap

he did not look at the girl once
and I watched
For ten minutes
his eyes were dead ahead
he clutched his ticket

She was an ignorant girl
taught nothing about
society, sex, or dress
He was an extremely steadfast friar man
watching the streets
I tried to watch

I watched the knobby knees
the color of Arkansas clay
knock open and close and smiled
how beautiful it is
to flaunt a mystery