Arriving somewhere

Woke up on the train she had
Writing in black marker up her arm, she realized,
Pulling back her sleeve, head slumped
The sun was rising so she must be
Somewhere

There was someone else in the car
Or wasn’t there? That person was not
Looking at her
And she was looking at her arm
A time and a place

Memory like a basset hound
Sad and soft and
Utterly unhelpful
What a rager last night was, what
Great thirst

She got off at the next stop, onto a
Wooden platform, bleak
Not busy, it was Sunday and she picked a
Quarter up from the floor for
The payphone

Oh right, there was a number there on her arm
Next to the time and place
And, being somewhere and
Awake and not in too bad of shape,
She called it.

No answer. No more quarters.
She heads down the stairs,
Gets a street-level headache,
There the people are.
Here she is.

A hanging yellow banner reminds her
There was a man in a bird suit
Last night
There were
Punchbowls and piñatas

She finds a park somewhere
Inside the here, and a bench
She sits to let her stomach settle,
To let her head ache,
Naps for some time.

Light is lower and grayer when
She wakes and it is
Chillier
And she wonders if she is expected
To be

Somewhere- the place on her arm
Right.
She isn’t sure but thinks,
Has an inclination it is
That way

And off she goes, trot trot
Swinging her pony tail
Wading through noise and traffic
Coming to a large metal doorway behind which is
Thump thump thump

Not sure of the time,
If it is indeed the time on her arm
But anyway she has made it
Arrived at
The place

Where am I?
Where was I? and how
Did this get on my arm?
Are things she
Could ask

She thinks for a moment,
As she walks inside,
About searching for answers
Then remembers
She is Miss Thing

And whatever it is
Will likely not start until she gets there
So
She jumps into the crowd, says
Hello hello hello!