POETRY |
As if in thrall to the grace and menace of a big cat.
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Passerby
by Steve Surryhne
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Amid the downtown rush, the city noise,
I saw her standing there, tall, cool, goth-chic, tatted and pierced, with mournful Bette Davis eyes, in a black dress, clutching her Dolce & Gabbana bag. Elevated on her stilettos, louche, slouching like Dua Lipa, we didn't speak but I knew somehow her lazy drawl. I breathed in her smoky eyes, as if in thrall to the grace and menace of a big cat. A bolt from the blue . . . a flash, then gone! O pretty woman don't walk on by! Your sudden glance jolted me back to life, life here and now, not hereafter. Too late for now or never, you're on your way elsewhere, knowing nothing about me, but what I know is this-- we could have loved, you and I, and you know it too! AUTHORS NOTE: An imitation-revision of Richard Howard's translation of Baudelaire's sonnet “A Une Passante.” Song references: The Beatles, The Hollies, Roy Orbison, Kim Carnes, Elvis (and Sinatra in spirit.) |
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