In she walks, slow and aloof.Ignoring the looks cast her way,
she stalks, a red-tailed devil tat her escort.
Corseted and pierced, with high high-heels,
She's a heat-seeking missile in the flesh.
Glanced at, stared at, secret looks pry,
So young and so outrageous.
She knows the stir she causes,
indifferent, she neither pauses
nor apologizes for her look.
I read her like I would a poorly written book,
scanned and sketched, details dismissed.
And yet, she makes an enduring impression,
a memory of persistent outrageousness.
Poetry from 53A
Yay, Annie...this is superb...just what (I)feel when I see someone like her
ReplyDeleteyay...glad you brought her here ;)
ReplyDeleteTook me a few days to pick up on the idea. I'm slow that way, Lolo.
ReplyDeleteannie, this is a terrific poem!! the last four lines say it all. you and lolo are channeling this woman!
ReplyDeleteNice one but she doesn't look too outrageous to me . .you should see some of the folk . .there's nout queer as folk.
ReplyDelete