A woman, whose disguise is the sunlight of a charming heritage born unto her with contagious rhythms, sees in the sidewalk a reflection of not only her, but her influence in the showering of comets that strike, under the first breaths of timid boys, an unexpected hour of propeller anxiety, that comes to them like the everyday ambush of mornings.

However blonde she is, in the reflective eyes of patron schoolboy splendors, she walks with the step of a country, whose eyelids open to the hatchet-glow of northern murders.

© Matthew Goff