What's In A Tube Of Hair Dye Anyway? Poem by Zoe Nyght

I stepped newly magenta
onto the bus back home today
with all the city fleeing
strangers -
girl with glasses and a helicopter smile,
old man swamped in a newspaper,
and a quiet boy in a plaid shirt I would
have fallen in love with if not for
you sitting across from me,
blue hair and a peacoat,
wayward eyes reflecting the lonely road.

“You are my one and only love.”
I stare you hard in the face as I say this
for I’m bold with the color of our connection,
and I smile, trying to be vixen-like,
eyes big like an owl so you will see
I am worth knowing
and I take chances.

I wink at you and hope I'm cute when I say,
”As a poet I am entitled to at least seven of those.”
Your cheeks turn pink as the sunrise
behind us, and our orange energy
flirts with the imagination
of our meeting as I hold the door open
for you at the train station,
that bright turquoise smile
encouraging me for a moment
to stop right then
and color my world magenta.

And when you were out of sight,
as the day descended into night,
I felt so poetic reciting words to myself
in watercolor, running my hands
doe-eyed through mousy brown hair
that shone dully under the fingernail moon.