On the plane
reading your book,
Lipstick and Bullet Holes
the green eyed stewardess
stood in the aisle
leaning over me.
She asked
what kind of book
I was reading.
I told her, poetry.
She said,
“oh I wondered
because I thought
it was called,
Lipstick and Buttholes.”
We laughed
and figured out
it was the font
and the way
my fingers covered
part of the word,
Bullet.
She read some of the poems
as the cabin doors closed
and said she liked them.
She gave me her number.

I take it as a compliment
for both of us.