Charlottesville Voyeur

I watch her.

When she unclasps her hands, she leaves small nail impressions on her flesh.

She smiles with her lips and not her eyes to everyone who boards the Free Trolley.

I watch her.

She watches a man lope past the stop. Her head turns as he passes. Is that a glimmer of a smile or a grimace alighting her countenance?

She looks up and begins to tug her lower lip, closes her eyes, and emits one tear.

Puzzled, I turn and also look up. I see the flag in front of City Hall flying at half its usual height.

Mid-yawn, I turn again to her.

Beneath half lowered eye lids, she stares into my open mouth.

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