The Next Stop

She asked if the seat was a place she could sit.

'Not yet,' I replied, and that was just it.

I meant it was open, I meant she should stay,

but she looked at me strangely and walked far away.

I stared at the pull-cord, that vibrating string,

ashamed of the stupidest, tiniest thing.

I touched it and let it go, three times in a row,

waiting for somewhere—anywhere—to go.