Understated by the circumstances,
Joy is thinly shaped among the stalls.
Stamped on the rim, I suppose it was
just coincidence how the coarse strands
of hair had fallen, stringy, into Joy.
Perched among the dust and other hair
of varying colors, glued with an
adhesive long since evaporated: Joy.
Mingling with the dust and hair,
Joy waits for me to lift the seat.