Sunday, April 11, 2010
It's mid-morning as
the neighbor lady plops down the steps
huffing and puffing towards the car
gasping for air
arms all akimbo.
Hootin', "Woooo, have mercy. Lawd, Dear God!"
Fannin' herself with the three fingers free
from her oversize bag.
Scuff shoes shufflin' across the pavement now
until one falls off.
Perched on one leg; draped in a muumuu;
she stops to slip it back on
the front of her swollen foot
that won't squeeze in over the heel.
No Cinderalla dreams today.
"Move it, Bitch!" screams the driver.
"We al'ready late!"
But she didn't lose her balance
as bird chirps and the smell of mowed grass
float in on a cool breeze.
The bartender rolls over
and turns up
Somebody is angry that the relief
staff won't be enough
for the Fall
He gives it up.
Shuts the window
that he stripped naked
before crashing in front
of the fan
But no one is around.
Brett Lars Underwood, 2010