They're sentences in waiting, diagrams
drained. Tuesday raises her hand & asks
directions to the bathroom. She misses
cigarettes, lessons how kissing the boy
she drags into the Sadie Hawkins dance
keeps her homeliest gal in all them hills.
Tuesdays fenced in, clad like tea cozies
as though for a parade. A crossing guard
& spinster, spent tissues saved & saying
how I'm with stupid is a saying for life.
Sundown thereafter kicking & kicking.
Boys waving from the backseat of a car.