oh where are you going? hunting cats groomed and charming
with your long hair tucked back, lit up like underwater cornsilk
or roughed by some little storm on the waters
you walk on the sidewalks
and you operate the library terminals with pleasent determination
and you smile again and again in conversation
your rolled up pant legs fall around your pretty sneakers
as you stand there thinking.
I guess at the little demons that guard you
that prance about your jaunty ears and features, like river rock sunned smooth
and clean and peaceful and strong
and beautiful
and your boyfriends they are good looking too.