Standing outside a bakery
In the midst of West Jackson
A fine mist of rain coats my cheeks and nose
Sunkist only without the sun
Only with large, looming clouds of gray
On the corner as if I would cross
As if the light would change and I would move
But I never do
Standing outside a bakery
With the smells of decadence thrusting into my nose
In soft, lethal spirals of hidden poison
I stand with my hands tucked into the pockets
Of a brown trench that reeks of secret spy
The long, fragile heels of her tan stilettos click
Digging mercilessly into the puddled asphalt
Her eyes met mine and her chin tilted
As if pulled by an unseen string ascending from heaven
My own dull eyes caught the waft of blond hair
That drifted around her shoulders like a halo
Boldly, shamelessly,
She glared at me from between white lines
As if she knew that, were I a man,
I would want her
As if she knew I knew… she was better
I watched emotionlessly as that perfect ankle turned
And those perfect tan leather heels ceased to function
Watched as the foundations of a great and mighty structure
Crumbled… leaving the rest to tumble like so much baggage
Her tan bottom skidded across the dirty Chicago street
Her full lips parted in a pout to rival any man
And she looked up at me, chin tilting
As I stood just feet from her
Able to help but far from willing
The light changed and the clouds broke
Just a little bit of sun kissing my bright cheeks
The woman beneath me received a faint smile
As I stepped over her and crossed the street.