the borrowed book

a woman
brushes up
against you
as she gets up
to leave
the bus
she says i'm sorry.
you look up
and nod. she
smiles and goes
on her way.
unfolding her
umbrella
before stepping
down into
the street,
and rain.
there
is  a borrowed
book
in your hand
it's a slow read
you don't know
why you took
it, but you did.
you'd rather
stare out the window
at this woman
that you don't know
than read
these pages, but
as the bus
lurches forward
you begin to read
again.