Sunday, I am eating a
grapefruit, church is over at the Russian
Orthadox to the
west.
 
she is dark
of Eastern descent,
large brown eyes look up from the Bible
then down. a small red and black
Bible, and as she reads
her legs keep moving, moving,
she is doing a slow rythmic dance
reading the Bible. . .
 
long gold earrings;
2 gold bracelets on each arm,
and it’s a mini—suit, I suppose,
the cloth hugs her body,
the lightest of tans is that cloth,
she twists this way and that,
long yellow legs warm in the sun. . .
 
there is no escaping her being
there is no desire to. . .
 
my radio is playing symphonic music
that she cannot hear
but her movements coincide exactly
to the rythms of the
symphony. . .
 
she is dark, she is dark
she is reading about God.
I am God.

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