Saturday

Fast Train

When the 17.22 heads out of Victoria and begins to pick up speed I start thinking about seatbelts, or the absence of seatbelts, and how in an emergency I might be thrown onto the woman opposite, cracking my head against hers, or puncturing my face on a corner of her open hardback book. But then I notice her breasts which are packed beneath a bib of pink frills, her tiered paisley skirt rumpling in waves over plump knees, her curly hair the colour of hazelnuts, her milky skin, which takes me back to her breasts which are pendulous, generous. And I’ve forgotten about seatbelts, as I shift my knees to one side to get a view of her feet, the shoes she’s wearing which I know will make all the difference to whether she’ll scream and push me away as I fall, or cradle my face away from her book, those wonderful breasts receiving me like a tumbled duvet.

not knowing
how to hold her
my mother at eighty

Frogpond 2007, Vol XXX, No 3, and
dust of summers (Red Moon Press 2008)

9 comments:

  1. This made me smile and sigh - those trains of thought that our minds travel on. Really great.

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  2. It's all in the shoes, huh? I'll make it a point to pay more attention.

    I missed this in Frogpond, but enjoyed it very much in dust of summers.

    Very interesting and effective juxt. between prose and 'ku.

    So, what kind of shoes was she wearing?

    A pleasure, as always, Lynne.

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  3. It's always in the shoes, josh. Ask any woman!

    Thanks for popping in.

    I never got to see the shoes. I never did work out the answer.

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  5. .
    I'm dying to know what shoes! ;-)

    Yep, a rare breed of husband who enjoys shopping with his wife for her shoes.

    all my best,

    Alan
    Less than a month to the deadline!
    The With Words International Online Haiku Competition
    .

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