Her jacket; blue and white, abstract prints.
Her long and glossy dark hair in a pink scrunchie.
Her expression; bored and angry.
The predicted snow didn’t come; only slurry rain.
In the bus shelter, she looks out into the wet, dark,
and sees Sunday night crushing into a singularity.
Sunday night, into Monday morning, and dread.
The movie was drivel, her friends not her tonight.
School is the place where she must look down.
The last Sunday night bus to the mall is here.
She gets on, feels as if the night will be endless,
no sleep or dreams, just vain attempts at calming.
The bus shimmies and shakes into motion, going
to South Knoxville, and the rain might yet turn to snow,
and snow might close school, a reprieve, a breath only.