Day 266

Restroom Rancor

A bald, black woman
stood at the far end of the line sinks,
fixing herself,
washing her face,
freshening up.
She smoothed lotion over her
already smooth scalp,
the remnants of hair just visible
in a 3 o'clock shadow.

A drunk, white woman
stood at the front of the line for the toilets,
grabbing herself,
mussing her hair,
cursing aloud.
She hurled insults at the
bald, black woman,
bragging about her own beautiful,
bedraggled hair.

The bald black woman
just kept looking forward
and mumbled a passive retort under her breath.
Our eyes met while I washed my hands.
She apologized to me. I didn't need it.
I understood exactly.

She was beautiful.