no air was moving.
i caught a glimpse
of white cotton
as she adjusted
her shorts.
oblivious.
rain dropped
somberly across the pavement.
i imagined her
fingering the hem
of those panties,
pulling them aside,
allowing me a quick glimpse
of the pink delicate,
and no more.
that’d be enough.
(of course i’m
a dirty old man.
the crows have been
singing that for years,
you’ve simply never allowed
yourself to listen.)
about the time
my last beer arrived,
her boyfriend drove up
and pulled her, laughing,
across his lap.
a Buddha smile
crept onto my lips
as i watched them
speed away
in the rain,
the image of soft cotton
breathing new life
into the decrepit soul
of this pen. 
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