Sunlit station shimmers.
Seeking shelters’ shade
teenage girls discuss
“flamboyant and fabulous”
Resting my eyes, awaiting the four minute
train journey to Stoke’s Croft street art,
a guy saunters in.
A gap either side of me,
he chooses the tighter space.
Interpersonal distance challenged,
but I practice reverse racism,
Gold teeth smile with the sunshine,
he hangs cool in crisp, clean, casual
black track pants and white T,
corn rows ventilate his scalp, as he
strikes up Jamaican accented repartee.
Later, I wonder…was he:
just trying it on,
looking for an easy lay?
just enjoying the sun,
the reefer (I declined),
and a woman at the station?
Or, was it just so unusual for a white
woman in that part of town, to not edge..
away, when a black man came near
(let alone to find one who
engaged in conversation)?
Which ever it was,
I really hadn’t expected him to get the horn and
rub up against my thigh.
While I admit he was kind of cute,
and he did understand “no”,
I ponder whether women less
confident would have felt as secure,
and whether they’d so easily and
politely have said