MOLE SEES BONNIE.
Mole’s seen her in photographs
On the internet somewhere but
It isn’t until she sits down at a
Table in the café and turns to
Look at him that it dawns on him
Who she is (but it can’t be he tells
Himself she died in an ambush in
1934 machine-gunned down by
Cops in a car with Clyde Barrow)
Yet the more she stares the clearer
Comes the image of Bonnie Parker
Right down to the eyes that ghostly
Gaze at him but then she turns away
Her head and roughly rifles through
Her bag with the black beret sitting
To the side of her hair the white coat
Wrapped about her tightly like some
Lover embracing the old fashioned black
Shoes touching at the toes then her
Fingers bring out a small pack of Camel
Cigarettes and she pulls one out and
Places it between her lips and lights it
And takes a drag then exhales making
Small smoke rings in the fusty air but
No one sees her or notes the smoke or
Hears her recite one of her poems in
A breathy voice only he sees and hears
As he sits across the café his dull eyes
Focusing his ears listening but his lips
Saying nothing as there’s no one for
Them to see or for him to show or say.
