She waits by the curb.
Black coat straight lined to boots.
Graying blonde, dark red lips, dark sunglasses.
She stands still beneath gray, drizzly sky,
then walks tight circles.
Blue jeans peek out when she walks a step or two.
She's waiting for a car that's clearly late.
Waiting for who? Going? Coming?
Her's a face of stories, aging well.

Then she's sitting at the table nearby
with him. A well dressed man

who will come to have
many stories. One story
continues as they leave,
the ending uncertain.

RD Savage
03/06/05
© 2005