Bus Portrait

She looks into a tiny mirror
from her bag and
fingers an invisible
trace on her lip.

The vertical vein is close
to the surface of forehead
microfiber skin. Her
dark eyes focus downward.

Somebody had paid
attention to her hair.
It is sealed up in
curled braids that take time.

I imagine that she carries value,
has a history, that she is
abundant with words,
but doesn't speak.

I imagine that
unlike me
she is great
at being a stranger.