from my window: a “prose poem”
From my window
Outside a car parks, silver paint bright even in this dull, cloud covered light. A passenger emerges. Tall, baby doll dressed in silver grey crepe, chiffoned with ribbon drawn under breasts free bouncing as she marches to the rear of car. Suspicious, she looks up road and down then leans forward, breasts without bra, hands rolling panty hose down, white legs revealed. I smile and wave when she sees me. She stares. No expression. She turns, rolls underwear down, the crease of a buttock stretched, tempting. With a sideways glance she laughs, swings head and hair, returns laughing to sit in the car.
Okay, I admit it is still a draft, not a finished work, but it amuses me as it is. A goodly part of my amusement is that it is based on what I saw from my window just a few days ago. I am still giggling about it, especially the way she attempted to ignore that I was watching, while showing more than she intended.