The Shops at the Pru

sitting cross legged
on city cement
it's cool, caressing summer legs
skin bristling,
in the air conditioned breeze
feeling goose bumps blaze trails
on arms, beige and bare
watching, quietly...

as she hurries by
with a confident gait
polished nails tipping
graceful hands clutching the
weight, of the world
in her shiny leather case
calves shaped and chiseled
from years of heels
and I wonder,
what it's like, to be her?
have her life,
be the legs in the heels
that click with authority,
be the owner of the secrets
in that shiny leather case,
possess her sheen
know the happiness that her power,
generates,
envy...
Why can't I, be her?

but maybe, she wonders
as she passes and steals a glance
‘Why can't I, be
the girl in the cutoffs
and the tank top with
the tousled, carefree upsweep
to her hair
sitting, watching, no particular place
to be, does she?’

Our eyes catch, for a second
and then smile;
happy to be, she and me.

And I lean back and
tilt my face to the warmth of
the rays of an
atrium sun
and I wonder, knowingly
as
I close my eyes
and breathe, deep.
Chrissie 1/26/03