Crying Beauty

I'm staring at you right now and all I see are eyes. Eyes that bear an uncanny resemblance to those of the girl who came up to me just last week.

After work everyday, I have a spot of Mivhy Street where I write poems. I have a really hard to miss sign that says "Stop, pick a poem about everything and nothing and feel free to leave a tip". So she stopped and said hello, but didn't try to make eye contact with me like my regular customers did. She just started blankly. I said "hi" and smiled, expecting her to ask me about my work like others did.

Just as I was about to ask if there was something I could do for her she said, "Can I just sit here next to you and cry? I need a moment to cry and not look like I'm crying. You're here writing poems so can you make it look like you're writing a poem about me or something. If you had a speaker playing slow and sad music in addition to this set-up, it could enhance your tip-ability. You can say no if it's too much to ask." She said it so fast and in one breath that I, who had been the silent one, had to come up for air when she was done.

She was young enough to pass for my daughter, but that would have been almost impossible given the circumstances of my reasoning towards negroes around the time I presume she was born. I couldn't have been around one long enough to create a child. My Martha would roll in her grave if she knew of the things I have come to accept. Just twenty-years ago, we worked hard to ensure that our son did not succeeded in mixing our family's genes.Who would have known that I'd one day see colour just another way in which we vary.

I glanced over at my guest occasionally, she just sat and stared straight ahead. Blankly. Sparsely blinking. Eventually some tears rolled down, but in a very casual manner. Casual because they were almost leisurely strolling down her face, a few of them waving at her nose as they passed, others sliding to the side of her face like they missed a step.

An hour passed and then two, but she remained just so. Lost somewhere or in something I wasn't sure I could even write about. And just as I was debating whether or not to inform her that it was time for me to leave, she bowed her head and in hushed tones said "I trust you God" and ran off just as fast as her introductory words had been.

I'm not sure what she was or who she was, but that was the night I bought the lotto tickets that won me all this money. And you, my dear Naynay are the first purchase I've made. Maybe that's why I can't help but see this resemblance.



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