In the Red

I wish I'd seen her before.

There wasn't much to the day,

It was cool and dryish, and no one said much.

The porch was full of flowers.

"Stop," said the sign, and there we were,

Wondering about cocktails. She stood

Like a foxglove, like a robot,

As cool as aluminum,

Waiting for a bus. There was a fly

Buzzing around my head. It was annoying,

But nothing we hadn't expected. We had a drink.

The girl got on the bus. The bus left.

Dear black felt-tip pen, linoleum,

These are the days of our lives!

Sometime soon we'll all have lunch.

Meanwhile, the moon is crawling out

Of nothing. Lights come on.

A zip of charcoal cloud turns red.