Reading Gone with the Wind


Reading Gone with the Wind

Reading Gone with the Wind

Her bobbed hair, 
slim legs 
lifted, stretched 
out on a 
park bench – 
brown-bagging it. 

Chewing whole wheat
bread, reading
“Gone with the Wind”
can’t see her face,
she ignores me.

She hikes her skirt,
purple-flowered silk
above her thigh’s
legs crossed.

A plastic fork fits
into her right hand,
probably homemade
salad of some kind.

Hope she drops it.
Drops it on her
skirt of silk;
perhaps the dressing
is made with oil?

Trying to sleep on a
park bench – I stare
into the mist –
suddenly despise her

That girl…
brown-bagging it,
on my property.

Leave A Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. Accept

Angie's Diary