Yup, that’s me:
That hippie chick chillin’ at the back of the bus.
Might catch Creedence from my headphones if the volume’s turned up enough.
Toddler nursing at my right breast, eldest writing to my left.
Mm hm, we saw you roll your eyes; but I won’t get upset.
To be honest with you, Friend, I can’t really say I care.
And it doesn’t shame me or offend me when you snicker or you stare.
I kinda wish you would speak on it, I’m so freaking prepared.
But you won’t because you’ve read my eyes -
You know that I’m not scared.
So you just go back to reading your Globe and let’s not take it there.
And listen, whatever you may think of me is likely mostly true.
But even that don’t bother me ’cause I don’t live for you.
Whatever label you’re pinning on me, please type it in bold font.
I’ll wear it proudly as I go on living my life the way I want.
And if ever you should open your mouth as wide as you’ve opened those eyes,
Let’s talk a bit, I know some stuff, you’d probably be surprised.
Because you’ve pegged me as a typical ____ who can’t hold a conversation up.
That’s cool, Friend.
Don’t forget my smile. : )
See you tomorrow, same time, same bus.