makeup

the lady behind the

counter at the corner

store told her it was

rude to eat bananas

in public.

stacked checks 

and cigarettes 

like dominos—learning to

taste the same, 

learning

to play the game. 

why wasn’t it rude to

eat cherries in public? 

the homeless boy

by the street lamp told her

she would look better

if she wore less

make up. 

out of tea bags, she hummed

through a mouth full of warm 

water and remembered

she wasn’t wearing makeup

actually. 

the tall man with the 

suit and the shoes that shined

in the stop light

asked her how much

for the night. 

she didn’t understand 

his question and asked

him for a cigarette. 

he smiled with 

his eyebrows as

she dropped the banana peel

lit up

turned away 

with implied thanks.