Life From a Distance

Sometimes you can see the damage in people through thier smiles; thin cracks in a beautiful vase.

Life From a Distance

 

I see her every day.

I am very aware of the anger, sulking carefully down her lithe legs,

And into the floor.

She is a cat in the biggest corner,

Scratching at honest smiles,

Dodging admiration, and afraid of affirmation.

 

I wouldn't really mind, or care,

Except that when she does look away from burning holes,

Through subway windows, I hear her say,

"That is him." - "That is the one who hurt me."

And she is quite certain,

I am not him.

But she is telling the truth.

 

It is, that office park suit,

A definite three and a half inches above her knee,

I know she measures before she buys,

With practiced professional sensuality.

 

Plaid and blue.

 

I see her every day.

I am very aware of the pain, traversing through the soft lines of her arms.

It is battling her mind to articulate her fingers.

Clenching suddenly for victory,

It is momentarily misting her vision.

Tunnel lights continue to run, quickly, past greasy windows.