she walked down 31st and 3rd
with some obscure brand of coffee and

A Tale of Two Cities

attached to her hips
which were hugged by soft and faded denim
paired with a shirt that was filled with bright colors and
young patterns that
reminded her of the bracelets on her dresser at home
(collecting dust and light and memories)
and she wondered which was better for her-
the cities or the writer?

but the answer escaped her as she walked
barefoot now through the parks
that they told her were so dangerous
but she doesn’t understand what’s menacing
about never-ending green and promiscuous eyes.

and when the rain fell

(and all the lifeless blurs around her ran for


shelter or their umbrellas
-
so accidentally complimenting their outfits)
she let the water wash her hair and her skin
wondering which was better for her-
the ground or the rain?

the grass turned greener
around her Indian style legs
that matched her sunnyday skin
and her babyblue eyes
and she walked make-up-less now to the
pier on the beach with
the horizon that never ended and was always touched.

she took off those soft and faded jeans and her bright young shirt
-shedding the armor that hid her from the world.
slowly, toes tickled crushing white waves

and ankles (shins knees thighs waist stomach chest neck)

ran to catch up
burying themselves in the cool rocking greenbluegray
and she wondered which was better for her-
the calm or the release?