Friday, October 16, 2015
Small Glories
We got the best seat in the house.
What a view. The vast empty
above propped by glitter,
laser lights masked the dark,
straight beams mirrored on the
water deep below, shadowed
a roped corner, a ring in which we fenced.
On my heels for fourteen hours,
mascara, doubly-applied, held
my eyelashes rigid and I smiled
Red Tomato.
We had an adult conversation going,
a familiar accent of long time ago.
People with jobs, business cards,
shook hands, touched elbows,
clinked beer bottles, did a little shuffle
dance, a merry-go-round of this thing called
mingling. Is this rehearsal for real life,
or is this it?
The red I wore barked, wanton
for attention, and there were few
who wanted to strip it off me.
I forgive, but my elephant memory knows you.
Fifteen hours on, my legs were jelly
and I climbed the steps, back
to a cold room.
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