November 20 Poem

Here she comes

with her cherry red lips,

and pale blue eyes,

hair flying in the wind,

bags draped over her shoulders,

carrying too much stuff.

Then she begins to speak,

and the words come rattling

out of her mouth like machine gun fire,

and the words swirl around

and around me like a tornado,

and I’m dazed.

“Are you listening to me,

did you hear what I just said?”

and I nod dumbly. Now things

are tumbling out of her bag;

you’d think she would pack a

bag with zippers or some kind

of closure, but that’s not her style

as she stumbles on the sidewalk.

Her words are still swirling,

breathe girl, breathe,

because I can’t in this whirlwind.


Being with her is like standing

out in a brisk wind after being

cooped up inside for too long.

It’s exhilarating,

like breathing fresh mountain air

after being in a locker room.

And She’s so adorable,

leaving her phone on the train,

losing her wallet, again (running

to catch a bus and it tumbling out

of her open bag), tripping and falling

flat while racing across the terminal

trying to make a connection.


She glows with light and beauty,

and enthusiasm, even when she’s crying,

and now she’s laughing again,

and she’s talking so fast her words

are running over each other,

and even she can’t keep up with her thoughts.

She’s genuine, you know, what

you see, what you hear, is what you get,

and it’s all pretty wonderful,

all wrapped up in this tidy,

beautiful, disheveled package.

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