She glows. Hat and coat a shining hue of red, lips lit by a fresh puce lipstick, cheeks firing life, the figure skips along the bridge, the yawning morning light stretching it’s rays towards her face. Blessedly free birds swoop through the braces above, their explosive cacophony of noise a vibrant orchestra serenading her presence. Tourists clip pictures of her bright figure, wondering which movie star she must be, with her fierce strength and contagious glistening smile. Unconsciously tightening her hand, she finds that, for once, it is empty. Laughing at her expectancy, she folds it into her pocket, fondling a polished diamond ring only a bit too big. A taxi swerves to drop off a passenger, and the woman grins at the hustling stranger. How odd, to have someplace to be. Turning to the shimmering water below, she slips her hand onto the rail, resting for a moment to capture the glorious picture of the day. Salt splashes in a calm, contemplative manner, and clouds flicker through one another as the spring sky blankets the day in a perfect blue dome. Trifling conversations flutter past, people chatting as they saunter by, the thin sidewalk shining under the weight of so many careless fools. Constantly humming automobiles become a beehive blur in the background, and she leans out, untouchable in her joy, titanic pose held up by the fierce hope smoldering within her chest. Her body is silhouetted by the fiery day, flat horizon line rippling as the bay splashes up, vainly lapping at the edges of the sky in an attempt to touch that ever-radiant flash of brightness just rising from the east. Flirtingly the water twinkles, light reflecting off the cellophane surface, its yellow winks teasing her from below. She laughs, joy tumbling out of her throat and pouncing over the water, carried into the sunrise by the lilting winds and dissipating into the curving blue horizon. Fragile, pure, and beautiful, the day opens, a flower ripe with hope and future, the world hesitating as it blooms, it’s innocence lasting only a second, yet the second lasts an hour.
San Fransisco Beauty
January 28, 2010