My Vanity

My Vanity

She sits on Umaran street,
Just down from the Paroquia.
In a doorway,
On a concrete step.

Her fingers are twisted,
wrapped into a ball,
like the crochet yarn
I use with such ease.

I drop my coin
into her basket,
she smiles, “Gracias senora”,
her head bobbing
she glances up at me above.

I wonder what meager supplies
can be bought with so little.
Tortillas, perhaps some fruit
or rice, or beans.

As for me,
I wondered…have I bought a lost
layer of my soul that I
discarded so long ago?

I walk away, admire my hands
my long slender fingers.
I’ve always liked my hands
My vanity.

My Vanity

She sits on Umaran street,
Just down from the Paroquia.
In a doorway,
On a concrete step.

Her fingers are twisted,
wrapped into a ball,
like the crochet yarn
I use with such ease.

I drop my coin
into her basket,
she smiles, “Gracias senora”,
her head bobbing
she glances up at me above.

I wonder what meager supplies
can be bought with so little.
Tortillas, perhaps some fruit
or rice, or beans.

As for me,
I wondered…have I bought a lost
layer of my soul that I
discarded so long ago?

I walk away, admire my hands
my long slender fingers.
I’ve always liked my hands
My vanity.

My Vanity

She sits on Umaran street, Just down from the Paroquia. In a doorway, On a concrete step.

Her fingers are twisted, wrapped into a ball, like the crochet yarn I use with such ease.

I drop my coin into her basket, she smiles, “Gracias senora”, her head bobbing she glances up at me above.

I wonder what meager supplies can be bought with so little. Tortillas, perhaps some fruit or rice, or beans.

As for me, I wondered…have I bought a lost layer of my soul that I discarded so long ago?

I walk away, admire my hands my long slender fingers. I’ve always liked my hands My vanity.

She sits on Umaran street,
Just down from the Paroquia.
In a doorway,
On a concrete step.

Her fingers are twisted,
wrapped into a ball,
like the crochet yarn
I use with such ease.

I drop my coin
into her basket,
she smiles, “Gracias senora”,
her head bobbing
she glances up at me above.

I wonder what meager supplies
can be bought with so little.
Tortillas, perhaps some fruit
or rice, or beans.

As for me,
I wondered…have I bought a lost
layer of my soul that I
discarded so long ago?

I walk away, admire my hands
my long slender fingers.
I’ve always liked my hands
My vanity.