From bus seat windows.
Somehow it had to do with itchy fabric seats.
It was about the spot of yogurt on the corner of your mouth,
The whitish blotch you cannot see.
It was about that, somehow.
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Or maybe it had something to do with drinking a scorpion bowl
Collectively from colored straws
And not minding the sickly backwash
Because we were all going to get mono anyway.
I used to carry tiny plastic babies in my pockets,
I think because I liked the way they made my hands feel like mothers.
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