She climbs out
of her car
in front of Walgreens:
an old woman
wearing sunglasses.
Her hair
is a mess,
her skin is like
tight brown
leather.
A Virginia Slim
dangles from
her lips as she
slams the door.
This is a tired town
full of tired people.
I bet she was
a real beauty
at one time;
I can picture her,
twenty years old,
turning heads
on a beach
in Miami.
But that was
a long time ago,
and now,
she smirks at me
as she wanders into
the liquor store
at noon
on a sunny
Florida day.
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