Friday, December 21, 2007

SHE CAN'T SING ANYMORE

She doesn't comb her hair

Wears black shawls with foot long fringe

Swinging

Opens the dumpster for scraps of life

To convince her of reality

I wonder about her sanity

Relish the glimpse I have of her childish abandon

Linger when she arrives to inspect my recyclables

Wish I were her for a day

She dances at midnight alone

Beneath the streetlights

Mothlike

Fluttering in a soft black shawl

Muttering

The words to an unknown song

I wish I knew her better

Wish I knew that tune

She walks in the heat of the day

Wrapped in layers of wool

Looking for something or someone

And I can't stop wondering

Who she was and what she did

Before her song

Became a toneless humming

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