IN BETWEEN TOURISTS
Holly Day
They watch me, as I get on the bus
watch my mouth as I smile
at the bus driver, take my seat
at the front of the bus, their hands
curling into claws, hoping to
knock me out, be the first to get to me
to pull out my teeth, my straight, white teeth
to jam into the empty pits
of their own mouths, to fill in the yellow
jigsaw of their own smile
to look normal, human, with a full set of teeth
if only until my teeth
fall out of their receded sockets
and their days stretch meaningless
waiting for the day
when another tourist
gets on the bus.
