Monday Poem

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Girl on Trapeze
—Vignette through a windshield
Jim Culleny
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Young chick at a curb waiting for a green.

It comes, she goes head down
checking out the cut of her jeans:
how they lay across her shoes;
the way the inseams hug her firm thighs;
the fine, faded blues.

Sweet on self, she imagines
an approaching guy
sees what she eyes:

sees himself as her squeeze.
Him, turned-on. Her, self-pleased.

She smiles
raises head reins eyes
veers right launches keys
and swings into her car
with beautiful and satisfied
greatest of ease.
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