Saturday 13 September 2008

Salsatastic...



Portrait in a series of moments

She eats a plum: it is easy because
they are in season. The string of the flesh
gets stuck in her front teeth, but that always
happens. She waits until she gets
to a mirror before picking it out.

When she mixes paint, she only uses
one brush and aims for shades that don't
necessarily work with orange. They usually
come out brown, but she doesn't worry
because she likes brown anyway.

Applying mascara, she uses even, curving
strokes to accentuate her lashes.
She doesn't mind if it isn't black, or that the tears
will wash it away later. She doesn't count
the hairs, but clumps them.

In the shop she chooses a yellow umbrella
because of the grey day it will be used for.
It cheers her face. She opens all of them inside
the shop first; affirms her lack of superstition
by fretting other peoples' into leaving.

She slams a door, gets it out. Only once,
and with no preamble. It feels good
but seems lacking after Albert Square's.
She does not look a fool by going back
for seconds. She answers no questions.

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