by Arlene Antoinette
They say that we are all the same. Well,
all the same under the skin: muscle,
bones, veins, flesh, blood. I sit in my
favorite café on the corner of Lexington
and Third Avenue, stirring an over-priced
cup of coffee I will never finish drinking,
and study the faces of strangers passing by.
I search for something that will knock
that statement on its ass; something to prove
we are not the same, but even taking into
account the man standing across the street who's
wearing a hat made from tin foil and a full length
parker in 90-degree weather, I’ve got nothing.
Bio: Arlene Antoinette writes poetry, flash fiction and song lyrics. Arlene's work can be found at: Foxglove Journal, Amaryllis Poetry, Little Flower Magazine and elsewhere on the web.
Pieces Inspired by this Image
'The Hoops of the Road'