Fiction   Essays   Poetry  The Ten On Baseball Chapbooks In Memory

L.E. Fitzpatrick


She waits

confident in the
subtle misdirection of
black felt dots
speckled randomly across the
veiled blur of a stylish hat

Her tapered fingers, elegant
sheathed in white kid gloves,
smooth a spill of silk stockings,
straighten seams that accent
contours of firm flesh

She waits
for her Cary Grant
to return from the dining car,
faintly redolent of an
after-dinner brandy and a fine cigar,
sauntering with effortless grace
down the narrow corridor
to touch her lightly on the shoulder

The train churns past
laborers, silent as wraiths,
drifting through the orange groves
lighting smudge pots
against the sudden chill

lifts weary eyes
in the twilight haze and
imagines the passengers inside

In an earlier, less blighted age
when polished manners &
surfaces embellished with
ornamentation were enough

He imagines
her lovely


upturned face.

©2004 by L.E. Fitzpatrick

L.E. Fitzpatrick has been writing poetry for about six years. She works as a Communication Specialist in health care.

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