5 Full Stops
Aug 17 2009


Hot pink polish on her toes.
Tanned feet
leather sandals
calloused soles.
Summer dress, earth-tones, hemmed low,
a long blonde pony-tail.
She reminds me of a flower child
sprung from some cryogenic vat
40 years after,
a hippie-wannabe back-to-the-lander
with a brand new pedicure.

I sat across from her
5 full stops,
until she got off at Union Station,
wafting across the platform
like a dancer,
almost weightless.
And in her wake
I caught vanilla
orange essence
the heavy resin of pot.
Sitting, slack-jawed
as the subway jerked to a start,
watching her long lean body
get smaller
and smaller.
‘Til the tunnel
plunged us into darkness.

Hot pink . . . or was it neon red?
I wonder.