Checked my phone nine times on the bus.
Still no reply. Unsurprised.
You don't ask someone out by text message,
which is why I did.
How could a palm of screen link us heart to heart?
How could I declare my true affections in one hundred and sixty characters?
Perhaps if I knew Mandarin.
I will never know enough.
I know the process well enough to sabotage, watchmaker
No one is to blame. No one is at fault.
All my romantic failures are accidents. First a rear, and then the ending.
I don't know how to drive.
There are living people on the bus and I try to fall in love.
Nothing. Once a day is my limit.
If I stay on the bus it might keep going. I don't have to get off.
We can race towards the dawn, bus driver. You might be tomorrow's
Your uniform, your cropped hair, your professional demeanour.
If it is you
I promise I won't let on.
Just don't let me off until the dawn.
The bus driver does not hesitate. Sticks to schedule.
Hauling reality a little closer to plan.
No love in this bus. I touch the corner of my eye.
Check my phone again.