she told me she had a poem for me,
(as she reached back to caress the silky
waterproof fabric of her new jacket).
she had a confession about a secret
vice she had, that no one knew about,
(as she picked up the silvery-grey
sleeve of her new jacket to inspect
the nicely aligned stitching).
she leaned forward slightly, so as
(to ease her new jacket onto her
slight shoulders), and to tell me more
about this poem material, this secret
vice (that wasn’t so secret anymore).
she stood up (in her new jacket )and
gazed lovingly at the reflection of
(her new waterproof jacket) while
I photographed her for the poem about
her new jacket.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment