A Beautiful Stranger

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now i’m ready to start.
it was an accidental glance, something that could have very easily not have happened. but maybe all moments—worthwhile ones, at least—are completely unexpected and can really swing either way, striking or dull.
she was striking, a woman crossing the street behind me. silhouetted against the headlights of oncoming traffic. she wasn’t worried; they’d stop. it was the regal way she carried herself. shaved head held high, her stride long and sure. she had places to be but was in no hurry to get there. a regal creature crossing the uneven, pot-holed street of a part of town that probably did not deserve her.
i wondered how that skirt felt against her shins, on her slender ankles as she calmly walked her bare feet across the road.
i bet she speaks in a way i can’t understand. her voice waning and baying in peaks and valleys, the honey of her voice oozing through her throat and coating the words she speaks. she probably attracts a crowd when she tells a story, gesturing with her hands in a naturally appealing, almost demanding, manner.
that woman i happened to see as i glanced into my rearview mirror unknowingly slipped into my brain and pressed her long, graceful fingers into the soft tissue of my mind that is so normally full of crap. she glided her way into my thoughts and now i’m trying to force her out of them with this marker i take for granted. she effortlessly danced across my unfocused eyes and stayed there, a statue of absurd elegance, carved from aphrodite’s shell.
when i tried to look at her again she had melted into the night that surrounded her dark skin. like a child slipping into the confines of their favorite blanket, she hid herself in the protective cover of the evening. she remained out of sight but i’m having some trouble getting her out of my mind.





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