She
stops at the isle of gold lane and haze
holding her head up whine and gaze
that haughty look wander in space
She
Frowns
unhappily
on a bench across the street
intense perplexity
under her clouds
in a dark city
She
pouring arrogance
egocentric maiden
fear her own imperfection
He
"She's in manufacturing business"
"What does she manufacture?"
Unhappiness