She Passes Him By
She Passes Him By
She passes him by.
He in a crisp linen suit slung sleek over his British body dangling a fine leather leash with the floppy eared hound slung low to the ground.
She passed another him by.
Bare chested dressed in blue green tattoos a forest of soft dark hairs neatly organized on his deeply tanned barrel chest.
She passed me by, dressed in football cleats, baseball cap flipped backwards, and evening gown trotting towards home base.
Then we all three passed her by with her froo froo dog in a lavish wannabe wishful thinking costume.
The latest in adnauseum chic.
Harlequin colors, star timed heels, fawn colored leopard and puce, pup on a leash.
Aggressive ratty little chihuahua dressed to match his mistress, matching moods, harlequin colors, harlequin lines.
She leans against the wall of State & A reading comic books from the dealer around the corner.
She holds up the diner with her back.
She holds it up straight in a topsy turvy world wearing a stack of bowler caps.
We gaze eye to eye and wonder in whose shadow we stand.
The inspiration for this came out of a period of settling into a new day job, as a law firm receptionist, and being struck by the happenings on this street, Carrillo Street. In that I was free to do as I please quietly at my desk when the phone wasn't ringing, or clients passing through, or some small other task, poetry and small sketches became a part of the process of keeping my mind/body/creativity engaged. There is something about stillness, and quietness, and being alone that is good fodder for creativity.