Brush

cute little brunette girl,
your moon head bobs
through the glass,
above the hoods,
your tiny profile
framed large in windows,

you bounce
like the slightly warped ball
that you throw extra hard,
the one that flies
over the wall
like you want to

you’re dwarfed,
camouflaged
in the asphalt expanse,
glancing for cars
before you make
your rabbit run

with the shopping cart
you’re pushing,
almost taller than you,

just above the handle
your hands barely curl
your bangs parted slightly,
too long,
hang down in your eyes,
like a sheepdog’s,

then as you dart,
they catch the wind
and part,
your little ankle shows,
and you almost trip
on your sandals

in a black flowered dress,
too long,
but you’re too busy
bouncing along to see
you’re sweeping the dirt
from the concrete

c. 2001, 2008 Evan Gilling

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