YOU KNOW HER?

YOU KNOW HER?

does she stare all day
through a cubby hole –
her arm bent, her hand
holding her head beneath
her chin?

She talks on a phone –
tells no one her name –
wearing a shirt that sparkles
as if she were dressed to
go dancing – her lipstick
thick – her eyes painted
green.

She holds a white pen
in her hand – never writes.
She asks questions – and
has no clue about what’s
happening in the world.

She pretends to be sexy,
playing on the phone as
if she were all grown up,
as I hear her whisper

unlike the person she
talks to on the phone –
probably in three times
her age -

Nancy Duci Denofio