[Intro] Mm… One ticket; no return clause. A lady studies arithmetic in motion. [Verse 1] I tucked my wedding ring with spare coins, took the noon bus by familiar porches, sat beside perfume and gossip, held my mouth like a locked drawer—mm, a man in a rumpled suit, two rows up, and in that harbor town, he noticed me—entire. [Verse 2] The bus coughed us out near a tarry wharf, gulls arguing over crumbs, a diner with chipped cups and radio chatter, he bought soup, slid it near me—ah, no sermon, no bargain, no tally of debt, and in that harbor town, he noticed me—entire. [Middle 8] I married a man who collected apologies; he spent them like tips, then demanded interest. My laugh became evidence in his tribunal, my shoes were judged for racket, my cuffs for lint. So I practiced sentences trimmed to a comma, betting he’d miss the sharp parts—ha. [Verse 3] Now I rent an upstairs near the wharf, boil onions, mend hems, pay rent on Friday, he strolls beside me through market stalls—mm, his kindness arrives without invoices, my shoulders settle, unbraced, and in that harbor town, he noticed me—entire. [Outro] Mm… Not a fairy tale, just decent manners. Ah… and that’s plenty.
