Summer lady at the bistro

Rice, beans and a spicy lemonade

straw hats, stilletoes and haute couture handbags,

a skirt that hems at the horizon

and reminds me of an old marina

I had seen, eating ice cream at a pier

It’s blue and yellow, and all colours pure

with tiny scribbled boats, and falling

Winnie Poohs,

it’s a child’s skirt, but she wears it with aplomb

she is out of place at the bistro by

the tax office, eating death by chocolate

in choking slices,

and wondering what the world came to

while she was gone

she huffs, and hangs her shades by her shirt

she swoons, she swerves, she sings a mean verse

for roadside cafes, and speeding cars

to be fair, the heat is too much to comprehend

to be fair, she quit her new job last week

to be fair, she doesn’t think she is proud or tall

to be fair, she is only 23 and three-fourths after all.

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