Sunday, September 7, 2014

unbeknownst to her, tacky dress gets a poem


as an afterthought, to pass the time
i read the names next to mine
posted on the list outside
one was an anil forty-two, the other a gayatri thirty-nine
and exulting at the possibility
of them – for once – putting a woman next to me
i waited for this perfect stranger to arrive

i watched the eyes of all the women
between twenty and forty-five
as they looked up at the seat numbers
walking anxiously down the aisle
the expectation in their eyes
then a flicker of recognition
a slight easing of tension
as they stopped short or passed me by

she turned out to be
a tacky dress who’s dad said
ok, so i’ll leave then, even as he
swung the bag up onto the overhead rack
and she waved goodbye even as she sat
down in a mass of glittering pink
and he was off in a blink

she had her coffee and then soundly slept
but to be fair, we did have a little chat
at the end of the journey when she wanted her bag
brought down form the overhead rack
and then off she went
with the uncle who’d come to fetch her
he dragging the bag, she clutching her purse
unaware that she’d been
the subject of my humble verse


No comments: