That time again, the
bloodied shin,
The Achillies gash, the
nick behind the knee,
Wicked campground
shower stalls, foothold free.
What pose to pose, the
flamingo, plié or tree?
For that microscope of
summer sun, and glistening sand
The magnifying lens of
sunglassed vision
Glaring at those few
strays with derision.
She strides past all of
us waiting our turn,
For our five minutes of
freeze or burn
Her sporty shorts and
shoulder-length hair
She’s been here before,
she knows she doesn’t care.
She plants a foot on sink
edge, like claiming the moon,
A lathered leg,
flick-flick the blade, she owns the room.
Rinse, repeat, brush teeth
and polish out the sink
The big male mosquitoes
at the top of the mirror didn’t even blink
I haven’t blinked, she’s
gone, I’m still in line, but now I know
I’ll be in her camp,
her legs, her flip flops, starting now.
Photo Prompt: Mag 266
Those male mosquitoes certainly add some je ne sais quoi to the mix! LOL
ReplyDeletePower indeed! Of course the male mosquitos are harmless, as only the females bite! No more queing......!
ReplyDeleteShaving with an audience. That's a difficult thing to do with finesse. Good write.
ReplyDeletePowerful presence.
ReplyDeleteThanks for visiting.
In a word, remarkable...
ReplyDeleteLike she jumped out of an Andrei Tarkovsky flick !
ReplyDeletePowerfully vivid!
ReplyDeleteThis is amazing -- like a view into the girl's locker-room the confidence to dominate. The rhythm and rhymes add a rush of excitement...
ReplyDeleteAnd off she'll go...quite the dominant lady. I love the line that includes ' a lathered leg and flick flick of the blade'. Bravo!
ReplyDeleteMy favorite of this week's offerings...I still have the scar on my right shin bone from that archaic safety razor...
ReplyDeleteThank you Tess! Sorry to open old wounds! Haha.
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