Las Angelinas   Leave a comment

I heard her important sounding boots on the pavement
I didn’t turn around
But I knew it was a her
It was a her sounding sound
An important her
Compared to the soft patter of my Sketchers
It sounded like the approach of doom
somebody was going to be in big trouble

Not me
I kept walking
Umbrella in one hand
Aqua Fina in the other

It was just a silly nonsensical angelina thing
Drinking water and wearing tennis shoes in the rain

But it made me feel more important to the sky
More important to the itinerary of water
Than clunky heels
And troubled minds

Copyright 1998 by Rhonda Denise Johnson


Posted May 25, 2013 by rhondadenisejohnson in Poetry

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