Then the gate opened and passengers emerged
mostly business men and bureaucrats with attaché cases and
wearing dark topcoats
walking briskly to catch taxicabs and get home to their wives
and tots,
or maybe, mistresses.
And Rachel came walking through a motey beam
in soft brown boots and a woolen poncho
that she had picked up in Mexico:
a frolic of bright colors, a tropical variety among this flock
of dun winter birds.
Her hair was thick and black and long and full
like that of a movie actress.
Hair is a code, and Rachel's hair was a courting sign,
notwithstanding she was married at the time
(but that was Charley's worry, not mine).
She wore silver and turquoise jewelry
that she had picked up in Arizona
and a man was with her that she had picked up on the train
(no doubt that he had prurient expectations).
She laughed with me as he left
revealing her expensively perfect dental work
and her laughter rose up among the girders
disturbing some swallows.
We walked out into the cheerful cacophony of rush-hour traffic
among some pigeons
and passed a fountain playing in the rain.
.......................................................................Israel Lewis
Published in Wordwrights! #28, Fall-Winter 2002