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By Julie Vinograd Submitted by Misti Date: 2003 Aug 12 Comment on this Work [[2003.08.12.06.22.14406]] |
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She looks like a pile of feather mattresses of the kind that are supposed to be bad for your back 'cause they feel so good they gotta be bad for something. Big pillow breasts and room for a small teddy bear in her second chin. 3 skirts, the bottom one red, swirl over her hips wide as a barn door with a haystack inside. Her small children pluck at her purple shawl and play in her mammoth shadow. Her deep drowsy voice almost fell asleep and forgot it was singing. Head thrown back, shut eyes, dyed orange hair with brass bells in it. She jangles cheap bracelets up to her elbows as if she were rolling the music out like cookie dough. Sweat is sweet as jam on her throat. She's not pretty. And she's not young. But she's spreading so much softness every passing man wants to come over and lie down and rest his weary feet. |