Friday, June 25, 2010

Over Her Shoulder, As She Walks, Overhearing

almost talking into her ear, this one,
mouth corner-twisting at the crossing of
Grand and Grampians, it's a bad thing
when you see a realtor moving to Stevens...

Que linda!! Que linda!!

this month the dresses in Amelia's Bridal
are eggplant-colored, their rich sheen
reflecting his face as he shakes his head
side-to-side and sighs,
once is enough, yes, once. enough.

six black crows, strokes of charcoal
waving in the wind, black sedans
double-parked: he had me going in
circles, circles (they break ranks to
let the woman in green pass)

and, you know, I said to him, I
said, if he would only wait I
would have it for him, but he
was too much in a hurry, what
with the car and all

wedding
party
balloon
funeral

from soup to nuts the florist will
serve, with a couple of passport photos
thrown in for good measure

overhearing the very breath inhaled,
exhaled, over her shoulder, soles
pressing the pavement

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