Looking down,
I noticed the shoes.
Very sparkly with lots
of rhinestones,
four inch leather heels.
“Little early in the day isn’t
it?” I think.
My eyes travel up, nice legs,
good outfit.
Pretty face? Not exactly, just nice.
About thirty-five years old;
she’s going up in the hotel elevator
with a man twice her age.
She’s not his wife,
she has settled in life.
She’s the number two girl.
He pays the bills, she gets nice things.
He gets to feel younger for a while,
’til he goes home to his wife.
She’ll go back to her apartment,
and wait, until the next time.

Read more of Courtney’s writing in:
https://sites.google.com/view/webbywritercom/page-5?authuser=0

and Amazon/Kindle.

TWINKLE, TWINKLE

I shuffle the cards,

and gaze at the stars.

Jupiter is next to the

moon, they say,

Saturn and Antares are

on the way.

But, twinkle, twinkle you are my star,

how  I wonder where you are.

The Hanged Man needs some

attention now,

but I  consider the Fool

and stare at that card.

As the moon goes down

and the sun comes up,

 know this,

I am the moon to your sun.

 Venus on the horizon is

fated to be impatient but

The Knight of Pentacles has not come. 

I reshuffle the cards and lay them out

straight and remember that

Jupiter follows the moon tonight.

         

She stared and stared at my shoes.

I looked down at my feet – leather
sandals with blue, rhinestone straps.

My fresh pedicure winked back at me with
the gold sparkle polish.

I looked back at her. Now her head was hanging
way down like she was thinking.

“If I could just have the shoes, it would all be okay.”

I looked away, she made me uncomfortable with her
shabby clothes and dirty hands, holding the handle of the old
metal shopping cart.

It was filled to the brim with stuff… flotsam and jetsam, boxes and bags
in all mis-matched colors and styles. They matched her clothes.

Her head hung down so you couldn’t see her eyes.

I glanced at my Seiko watch to check the time, didn’t want to be
late for that hair appointment.

She had on an old visor, stuck in her hair that mostly hid her face.
I readjusted the ear buds on my Apple I-phone four.

I didn’t want to look at her and share her shame, irresistibly my
eyes were pulled back to her riding on this crowded subway.

Why so many bags and boxes? Ah, this is her house that she carries with her.
Of course.

She blends in here, with all the other people, all going somewhere.
She looks like anybody else.

It’s when she leaves here and goes up to the street;
that’s when she has to become someone who has
somewhere to go, someone to meet.

But there is no one and nowhere. Just the street.

I check my lipstick in the mirror in my handbag,
the train is slowing down.

Time to get back to my life.

THE DATE

She laughs

a little too hard.

She tries a little

too much.

She is supposed to be out

enjoying this thing.

But she can’t stop thinking

of him and how much she

wishes he were here,

instead of this guy,

who makes her laugh

a little too hard.

She laughs

a little too hard.

She tries a little

too much.

She is supposed to be out

enjoying this thing.

But she can’t stop thinking

of him and how much she

wishes he were here,

instead of this guy,

who makes her laugh

a little too hard.

 Dreams

The stained glass

picture that is my dream,

shatters to thin, gossamer

shards as I as reach

up from sleep

grabbing at them, trying

to keep the picture in tack.

Too late, they dissolve,

sugar candy in my hands

and slip back into that shadow world

that is the nether

regions of my mind.

Bubbling just below the surface,

just out of reach

the images entice me,

tantalizingly close.

I turn to look and they

wash away,

chalk pictures in the rain.