On the bus, I saw

you, across from                                  me
exercising your
'right' to be a                                stranger-

our personalities
              & public transport are
                                on uneven terms, so

we start a game
             of darts;

you throw me your eyes, only
                       to have them thrown back

it's called 'bullseye'
                       because this dance-

                                        of near misses
                                       & stolen glance

makes us guilty of
             red in shared blushes
                             (& horns in my pants)

stranger, there will come a time
             you arrest me-
              for revoking

your 'right'
         to remain strange

& your permit to
                     bulldoze my heart.