PUBLIC

She bolts in

Through the ‘Out’ gate

Stands in sneakers and distress

Her school uniform, her hair – wet

Clinging to her cry for help

 

We all turn to stare

From our fixed queue order

Some of us try to understand

To spend some listening

This side of the counter

 

They’re all after her

She couldn’t study

She is in need of a dollar

Her world, she’s broken it, she said

Most of us fold our concern

Into a bland expression

Or lock eyes with the floor

She cries again, now a reprimand

“Somebody help me,” she accuses

Catches my eye

Draws closer

Coffee coloured rings round her eyes

A slight twitch at the corner of one

Brings her back to the beginning

Of her grooved spinning crisis

Her world, she’s broken it, she said

She reminded me so much of what I knew

I couldn’t reply

The familiar froze me

Not even an impotent reassurance

Left my mouth

Someone stepped up to the mark

Behind me, from the queue’s end

The older man took the helm

With an instruction

“Come in, sit down,

We’ll make a call”

Practicality. That is what she needed.

I’d stood and stared while she pleaded

slunk away with wine and cigarettes

to forget who she reminds me of

her world, she’s broken it, she said

I crept into mine instead