she shivers; the wind cuts through her filmy scarf, a straight edge
she complains, but snubs the hand-knit wood, given as a gift
she accepted it with a squeal, and smiled, a mouth full of sugar
she flipped her hair, hung it up in her closet
she resented her sister for knitting her an ugly scarf
she takes short, cautious steps on the slick sidewalk
she fears that she may appear clumsy
she imagines, sometimes, that her life is a movie
she is always the star, never supporting
she likes to sing the soundtrack to her friends
she laughs, shows how clever she is
she doesn't see the danger in this
she finally walks into Espresso 22, with her sugar smile and ice eyes
she asks me to spot her money for a latte, and any quarters for the meter
as we hug, i want to say no
January 2005
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