I only saw you
out of the corner of my eye
as you boarded
and sat kitty-corner to me.
I noticed in-passing
your hijab but remained immersed
in the post-apocalyptic
genre classic Swan Song.
Shortly into our
sojourn down Kimball
a man reached over
his two sweetly rambunctious boys
to point quietly
at the Burger King bag you held
which silently dripped
milky pink-white droplets
onto your artfully embroidered skirt
you muttered "oh gosh"
and tilted the bag
attempting to quell
the steadily increasing leak
of the runny BK shake.
But time and temperature
had done their duties
and the dribble became a drizzle,
I reached out and caught it
before it could again
stain your clothes
and you said
"I'm so embarrassed"
with such sincerity
it near broke my heart
for who hasn't been stuck
with an uncooperative
melting Burger King shake
on crowded public transit
at least metaphorically.
You shortly disembarked
to throw away the offending
would-be treat
and I remained,
fingers sticky with drying strawberry dairy.
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