Back in the city, waves of people --
soft folds of sand-colored hair
pinned at a woman's nape,
light glancing off phones.
Flowers on dresses, swooping scooters
instead of gulls, flapping orange wings
of a cyclist's safety vest, the ceaseless lap
of traffic on de Lorimier.
And a little girl in black tulle, glimmering with gold --
like stars that night on the island --
tripping across Marquette, still unaware
of either infinity, or oblivion.
I like it! Sea/sand/sun/night translated to the city.
Posted by: Natalie | August 21, 2017 at 03:12 PM
That is very nice. It reminds me of something, but I can't put my finger on it.
Posted by: Hattie | August 22, 2017 at 05:22 PM
Like the way the mind makes island and sand and lights linger on, elsewhere.
Posted by: Marly Youmans | August 25, 2017 at 11:37 AM