it struck me, the way that she smoked
with no regard for passers-by,
the crowd shuffled past her slowly,
the odd head jerking toward her,
wearing a frown in faux-disgust
she leaned in the sun against the
rust brick wall, baking in the heat,
one foot grounded and the other
propped loose against the dingy wall
I watched her raise her cigarette,
slowly to her mouth and tug,
the end lighting up in hot delight
her arm dropped down as the slightest
smokey wisp escaped her lips and
vanished in her inhalation
the festival crowd, densely packed
with tired fathers and lonely
mothers shepherding their children
she stood in stark contrast as one,
singularly disaffected,
letting the trails of smoke waft up,
one slowly from her dangling hand,
the other a white puff of cloud
escaping her nose and her mouth
a young woman walked quickly by
and turned, scoffing to her sister,
expressing her astonishment
with a grand gesticulation
and then I saw the one, only,
indication she was aware
of the crowd she stood among
one side of her mouth turned slowly,
in a sly and sultry grin -
and again she raised her cigarette,
enjoying her moment in the sun
Carl, loved this. Really drew me in and painted a picture.
If my cold is better this weekend I have to go to Karate Campout on Saturday but if not, I plan on being at The Beat Cafe Saturday evening.
Either way, I wish you the best!
Susan
Normality is the Borg. Eccentricity is the way life itself tumbles through the shapes and textures of evolution. The way it freakin’ should be. Sly and sultry indeed…with maybe a spicing of chaos and soul. A nice evocation, Carl.