Back of the Bus

I trudge down the empty aisle of the bus
as I approach her. I muster the nerve
to mutter a hi before rushing past her. She utters
the same without a pivot of the eye or neck.
In the furthest seat next to a homeless man, I stare
at her the entire ride home and wait
for the possibility she glances back
and beckons me forward–beside her. Again.

Critique

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