She sits outside Wal-Mart in the fading light
her bleached hair is tousled by the wind, exposing dark roots.
People pass, ever streaming in and out of the automatic doors.
Laughing, joking, speaking, or silent
they walk past as though she does not exist.
Looking out the window, I smile gently at her
and she lifts one corner of her mouth, ever so slightly, in response
then turns her head away,
looking wistfully into the gathering darkness.
She fingers her lit cigarette
its end glowing, vivid, orange in the night
and she deeply inhales, sorrowful,
burying her brokenness--
hiding her hopelessness--
in a cloud of acrid smoke.
1 comment:
Hey Julia...I like this...it's kind of sad, but a poignant picture. I can really see it.
Oh...and about Crayolas...that's where I got my favorite color (at least teh one that's been on record the longest)...Cerulean. Just the name was cool. And the color is just sublime.
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