she wished to arrive
before the others
disappeared
into a neighboring party
this had happened
why when one is in a rush
does every road
suddenly burst
into garlands of traffic
interrupted only
by red lights and
drowsy lumbering busses
that evening it seemed
all those wide empty highways
had suddenly shrunk
down to two lanes
simply in order to delay her
arrival
stepping into the room
she was momentarily disoriented
as if she had just jumped
into a deep hot bath
anyone who sensed her
anxiety perhaps assumed it
explained her unusually
perfunctory handshakes and
neutral cheek-busses
which had always been quite lavish
as she understood it
should be among friends
anyone who sensed her
would know just why she was
there and what strange
primal instinct
had drawn her
like a fluttering summer insect
to a porch light at dusk
she closed her wide lips
around an olive
and chewed like a man
on a thought
that would normally have
made all the difference
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
In memory of Sue Grafton, whose mystery novels I’ve
so enjoyed, and whose words inspired it.
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