F.I.O.- for heather and james

so heare i am again at a bus stop
in a short skirt and red harlot lipstick
trolling for a ride from public transportaion
and my dinner on my arm
and my heart on my sleeve when the bus comes.
i walked down the same stretch of road
and caught glances from babydolls in BMW's
a mexican man in a nice car staring, asking
to give me a ride
but i said, "no".
good god, i feel feisty
like a Southern girl beat down by her daddy
finally figuring out how to leave.
i've been reading too many novels and
putting too much silver on my hands.
got a postcard today that made me feel like a queen
plucked it out
of the mailbox and laught, delighted,
tucked it into
the homemade bag slung over my shoulder.
it is HOT today and i am the person i've been wanting
to be

-- NEVERMIND the place.
and i think these people do not know i am scrawling
poetry, creating life
more than two bodies coupling or dying,
more than any sex or death,
more than anything but breathing can be.
i can't help the half-grin on my face
or my smirking eyes or my hair slipping
out of a hastily tied knot
anymore than i can stop the heat from matching my
burning cheeks
step for step and laugh for laugh.

copyright EAK 1998
poems

Email: elmosg@hotmail.com