As she sails up
The empty aisles
She senses
With each row
Of seats
She passes
Men's eyes rising
From newspapers
To watch her pass.
No seat offered.
Standing.
Bracing.
Hanging on to
An overhead rack.
Shaking.
In the facing window
She spies
Their eyes bouncing
From the headlines
To her breasts
And back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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