279. Pretty in Pink
she lives in the local Spar
– well, she’s always in there
whenever I go by,
or on the bench by the lights
drawing on a Woodbine
whatever the weather
berating the captive audience
feet away, praying for green:
my sinking heart portends
a voice of gravel & screeching metal
before my conscious mind registers
lipstick smeared
without the aid of a mirror,
mascara too.
Are you my friend ?
she sweetly asks some poor unfortunate
with the menace of a meat grinder
Sure, Doris
– you know I am
you know I am.