petroleum jelly
waiting to get her hair done
Mabelline perused a fashion magazine
safely sitting alone expressionless in the corner
behind either of her shoulders
large windows invited a southern sun
shining brightly but not packing much punch
she lifted her eyes and turned
spotted a red sports car speeding by
shouting ‘look at me I’m burning gasoline’
jack hammers pounded nearby
dismantling streets menaced with pot holes
slightly shaking the tile floor beneath her feet
suddenly stirred with unusual thoughts
she imagined a burglar broke into her home
carelessly rummaging through her medicine cabinet
march two thousand sixteen
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