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Feb 2013
Stalks of bronze leaves croon and
the manicured trees burst jade
against the sky, dangling over
tilted dark green benches.
I pretend to read,
trailing over the pages the oily noses of
dark-eyed, wide hipped nannies
willowy limbed women whose
scarves unfurl under artless chignons,
business men with careful mouths,
long, frecking strides.

He broke the fourth wall without warning and
my laugh was sporadic while I crumbled,
under the slightest of foreign touches, there,
above my shoulder blades,
where another hand
once brushed.
Liz
Written by
Liz
876
   Rand J Bennett
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