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The girl just ahead of me in the mall coffee shop line
is tall,
beautiful,
and of no more than eighteen summers.
My eyes cannot help focusing on her back,
obstructed only by the saucy strings of her tomato-red halter top.
The landscape of her flesh is smooth and flawless.
My own flesh, once clear and smooth to his touch,
and every bit as perfect as hers,
has now become a canvas where the paintbrush of age
has daubed and splashed designs of ugly moles,
and the faint renderings of meandering blue veins.
Just when I find myself on the brink of drowning
in a swirling eddy of self pity and youth envy,
the young girl reaches for her coffee cup,
causing her tomato-red strings to shift ever so slightly.
Just enough to reveal - yes, I see them -
two small but determined brown moles,
near the nape of her neck.
I catch myself smiling as I utter under my breath,
"There is a God!"
J. Snow Duncanson
The Monadnock Ledger-Transcript
Peter E. Randall Publisher
New Hampshire Writers Project
Seacoast Writers Assoc.
Portsmouth Poet Laureate Program
Mike Sullivan - TalesTold Tall
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Joann Snow Duncanson
P.O. Box 353
Greenland, NH 03840
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Phone (603) 431-2287
