Lie in the tinfoil

The young woman on the streetcar
is wearing lace slippers.
She is holding a pink cellphone
and her hair is dyed in that manner
where they lay folds of hair in tinfoil
and paint it.
We pass a pink storefront, bright blues
and pinks.
That's nice, she says.
I dont like it.
There are nice things in there.
There's no shadow.
We are on our way to Sweaty Betty's
to give a man who is turning 29
a hug and a card.
A man says, about poetry, Here's
me feeling something while I'm
thinking something.
Is that what it's all about?