That outlandish lady June 27, 2012

 

I can almost

See her

Strutting down

The street

Passing the school yard

And church,

That outlandish lady

Everybody mocks

But you,

It could have

Been you,

Still might be,

Singing not songs

From the radio,

But your own,

Your voice

Filling the morning

And evening

Rush hour with its

Own significance,

Defying the faces

Behind closed

Car doors,

Who might think

You or she

As dangerous,

We all paint

These people

With a broad

Brush of insanity,

When many tribes

Long before Columbus

Embraced them

As insightful.

I can almost see you

Perched bird-like

In your open window

Watching, waiting

For this strange

Woman to arrive

Perhaps a bit perturbed

If she shows up late,

Or not at all,

You needing the regular

Irregularity of her

Rituals in order

To build your own

Rituals around them.

email to Al Sullivan