Leaving Andrew Square

[68degrees]

I see a young woman traveling
in the glass reflection of the Metro;
her face is the sexual face I’ve always wanted
yet at each stop she becomes a different woman;
her hands hold rosary beads like fragile bird eggs;
she might be remembering what she responded
last evening when he asked her how lucky he was
to have her share his bed; she told him that according
to her mother, angels watch over us always
but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to pray anyway

[the mingo]

[theirishsea]

I second mingo on this one