Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Each evening she got
off the bus and crossed

the forecourt of the gas
station where you worked

wearing her knee length
raincoat and made her way

into the small shop inside
and you stood there open

mouthed gazing at her hot
beauty at her black hair and

dark eyes and she said I want
20 of those cigarettes and

she pointed with her thin
finger and red nail to cigarettes

behind you and you turned
around and took down the

cigarettes pack and put them
on the counter and she took

coins out of her black purse
and placed them one by one

on the counter top and said
There that’s just right and then

off she went no more words
just a wiggle of her ass and you

watched her go out of the door
and along by the forecourt of

the gas station and you sighed
and sniffed the air to capture her

perfume and held on to the sight
of her and placed it in your memory

like some rich guy putting some
precious gem in his vault and you

would sense that memory of her
wiggling ass like some fresh fish caught.

Hello dadio

This reads very well. As I began to read the piece, my first inclination was to think that it could be a piece of flash fiction and might be reformatted as prose rather than poetry. However on reconsideration I think the long, skinny format works well for you, with the short lines adding to the suspense of the story. Nice work, dadio. I enjoyed this little sexual romp. It's a poignant and effective read.

Chris

Thank you, Chris.