Rachael

16

Unknown and Untitled

You met her in Times Square
in the late afternoon when the light brings out both beauty and unfortunate passion
She, with her long, red hair freckled with wildflowers
and her fullmoon sunglasses shading her eyes from yours
because you so desperately wanted to capture a glimpse of her soul,
with that cigarette dripping ash from between her fingertips
and her back pressed against the wall
When you say you met her, you mean watched her stand from across the park
Bellbottom jeans that looked like they had been torn straight from a 70’s model
rung colour over the paving stones and resounded in your brain,
giving you an idea of what her voice might sound like as psychedelic patterns
dripped before your eyes, between your lips
letting you taste hers, until a girl of flowing black skirts
spiked black hair and a pocket watch took her hand and they smiled, kissed,
their bare feet carried them from your view like two shadows on a slide projector