TRINITY She vamps the twilight rather easy to miss if one were not the sort of man to search out women from the slit corners of one's eyes silent as a spy still as a mime with hat in hand hue and texture slipped off like discarded robes revealing only gray form sketched in profile against a bare wall no windows or railings no faces or furniture just clean brown stone framing a silhouette of cigarette and glove fur stole and lace thigh and spiked heel in a rare moment for Cherisse of cold cash grace Feeling five workdays dragging my feet and payday dragging at my back pocket I taste October's breeze chill ghosts flowing from her pose to my pace yet crisp and clean as new fire I run my hand down my hip to my wallet which I find as sensual as crisp bills tossed on a barmaid's tray and casually closing the gap between us I put on the best man of the world look that any twenty one year old could manage and prepare to ask her if she would like to go somewhere with me and just drink some coffee (A wise magician knows when to leave certain rebellious spirits alone and Cherisse and I have different demons to slay) But before I can so much as turn and brush the tangled hair from my eyes she whispers in that quick little girl clip of hers yet quiet as a shadow following its owner "Johnny I can't talk now Jimbo's here" Not even her lips move Like a cat too vain to acknowledge being watched I continue on my way long and even strides eyes to the front but head turning ever so slightly this way and that just as one follows the muggers following close by past another figure blending into another wall of gray brick thick shaggy hair pale pockmarked skin clean slack jaw chewing on something faded shirt new Levi's whistling to himself seeing nothing noticing everything (But I have my own tricks and most folks never see me when I'm not really here but then they aren't really here either) A pimp a witch and a whore trinity of bleeding moonlight lost in one another's spells of blindness and bait or perhaps just a shadow whispering to a shadow slipping past a shadow watching a shadow waiting for the night to fade us all away
Go to the next poem or the previous poem
Return to Table of Contents
This poem is from On Pagan Roads Copyright © 2004 David Arv Bragi