Monday, December 01, 2008


I saw her again
She looked weary
Somewhat fretful
Her freshness & her smile
Had disappeared

At the coffee place
She looked incredibly attractive
But here at this
Warehouse of images
She seems vulnerable
Her children stood with her
Perhaps it was the haste
To switch colors

After all this time
I still feel the distress of others
I never managed to get rid
Of that sensor

It’s your turn Sir, you are next
She said

I had forgotten
We were both on the same line
And the salesmen
Behind the artifacts
Were calling me
Making signs with their
Hands & arms
So I would approach them

I was there
But my mind was elsewhere
And my heart was
Was far away


S.L. Corsua said...

Perhaps it was the haste
To switch colors

That line lingers, making me think of the different roles one woman must juggle in one lifetime.

I've enjoyed reading your poetry, especially the ones with the well observant persona (this poem and "The Bus"). Cheers.

Martínez said...

Thank you L.S.

Yes, I understand. I think multitasking should be a crime against humanity.