What We Haven't Done

She, black, sixteen, the back
of the El, legs folded,
he facing her from where he sat,
wide wide apart his legs,
sweatpants rolled up, eyes,
his eyes, "Almost," spat,
muttered bold, "see her cunt," my
ears, my body right there, "What?"
she said, loud, "I'm sixteen"
the metal scream, the next stop,
doors unshut, can't, he, black
giant, cursing, she so old, so old,
"Your momma," advised, "Ought
to have taught you better," her eyes,
straight into his cursing, "My
momma had me," doors shut, unshut,
"she was sixteen," my body, me,
"Get out," she said, "Get out,"
he, rising up, a djin or a
doubt, a tornado, me, sitting,
I twisted the cord of my headphones
around each of my fingers and,
he whipped around, left, her
silent, me silent, "Get out,"
what I never, said, me, silent.