outside my window
Sunday. I am eating a
grapefruit. church is over at the Russian
Orthodox to the
west.
she is dark
of Eastern descent,
large brown eyes look up from the Bible
then down. a small red and black
Bible, and as she reads
her legs keep moving, moving,
she is doing a slow rhythmic dance
reading the Bible...
long gold earrings;
gold bracelets on each arm,
and it’s a mini-suit, I suppose,
the cloth hugs her body,
the lightest of tans is that cloth,
she twists this way and that,
long young legs warm in the sun...
there is no escaping her being
there is no desire to...
my radio is playing symphonic music
that she cannot hear
but her movements coincide exactly
to the rhythms of the
symphony...
she is dark, she is dark
she is reading about God.
am God.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...
