The Woman in the Pink Dress

June 5, 2009

I sat down in silence
At the other end of the table.
To tell the truth, the first thing
That caught my eye
Were her unique shoes:
Funky-looking sandals
With a clasp on each calf.
Etched upon her sleek legs
Were tattoos on either side;
I couldn’t read what they said.
Nimble hands tore the skin
From a ripened orange.
She brushed her long, curly
Hair from her face with the
Back of her manicured hand.
I watched with wonder
As each piece of the
Orange’s outer flesh
Was carefully removed,
A small cloud of juice
Puffed out into the air.

Her job finally finished,
She broke the sphere in half.
And as she gathered her things
She smiled and offered me
A part of her hard work…
I accepted, and blushed;
She had seen me admire
Her handiwork, and just like that
She was gone.



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