It was the time of the afternoon
When I habitually fear I will die
without having mattered.
It was at the moment when
The crunchy salt and the mango and pineapple
met on my tongue
That I noticed the brilliant blue textures
Of the hand-painted walls
And really heard Lynyrd Skynyrd pumping from
the speakers on the ceiling,
And remembered that I love long skirts like
the purple gauzy one in the
shop window across the
Arizona sun-baked plaza.
© Judith C Evans 2008
[Written just after a period of homelessness while I lived in Flagstaff, Arizona.]
Submitted to Poetry Pantry #50 at Poets United.