THURSDAY: The Woman in the Food Court


Copyright is held by the author.

She’s at the next table.
I am writing this down
as I sip a foul milkshake.

I’m taken by her eyes.
Hers are as blue as the ocean on a cloudless day.
Her forehead, her silky hair,
bob atop them like a dinghy.

And then there’s her mouth.
I’m in the presence of
the folded wings of a bird,
two slightly red bows
sleeping side by side,
or something a soldier
might have stitched into
the shoulder of his uniform.

Then I pass quickly by her chin
to admire her breasts,
which are like a day’s helping of oranges,
or where the letter P gets its inspiration,
or the proverbial smuggled snuggling rabbits.

And then she has to show her legs,
an A-frame with the upper floors dark,
a rungless ladder often thousand hopes and dreams,
the first dawn of mankind,
the ultimate weapon,
the bars of a cage
which my thoughts reach out and rattle.

  1. Very powerful, and an interesting look inside the mind of a man impressed by a woman he sees. The last verse is especially evocative and says so much more – the way you put words together is incredible.

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