On a street
with two suns
a woman tans
at a bus stop.
Hers is a
variable beauty
of restless angles,
arms akimbo
hips cocked.
One last time
she shifts
to step on to
the Number Two
and angles
and beauty
become perfect
then are gone.
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2 comments:
i wish for a photograph here :)
Heh. Getting that done might've been seen as creepy. Whereas writing poetry about it is seen as sort of arty, and so is far better for my self-image...
And really, for our purposes, your imagination is far better than any photo, don't you think?
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