by
Sara Regina
Tried to go window shopping the other day--
all I saw in them was my own reflection,
and it wasn't for sale.
I bumped into an angel, but
he didn't recognize me. He said:
"Sorry, girl, forgiveness isn't my department,
but can I buy you
a coffee?"
He put in two creamers, one sugar,
without even asking.
He told me he liked my eyes--
they reminded him of an ocean
or something. He was very matter-of-fact.
"I'd kiss you," he explained,
"but your eyes look like all of earth's waters.
Polluted. Sorry, babe, but it's the truth."
I tried to tell him that
he wasn't as golden as I'd assumed, but
he held up one bright hand to stop me.
"We're so careful, you know, in heaven...!"
And tipping his hat
(but not the waitress)
he disappeared.
Well, backhanded praise isn't going to
break my heart anymore.
I walked away, and avoided
windows and angels, after that.
07/14/2004
Author's Note: don't you hate it when...?
Posted on 07/22/2004
Copyright © 2009 Sara Regina
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Summer B Osprey on 07/23/04 at 12:52 AM sara...you blow me away again and again. it's just not fair how easily these impressive little vignettes flow from your keyboard. a pox upon you and your talent. |
| Posted by Melina Raven Maness Diebold on 11/29/04 at 12:54 PM If Clarence Oddbody got a part-time job at Abercrombie. That's what this made me think of. Very nice. Very nice indeed! Peace... |
No comments:
Post a Comment