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The Pierced Girl in Red

  




The Pierced Girl in Red




Slumped back in a tall imitation leather chair

The pierced girl tries to keep her eyes open,

Her head from bobbing left to right, back and forth

As we wait and wait on the train, at the platform of

The Brussels Gare du Midi



She could be pretty, I decide, beautiful maybe

Slender sympathetic face

Sun-bleached hair pulled back tightly

Supported by a lone rubber band

A few strands hanging over her face

Dozing eyes



The pierced eyebrow holds her beauty at ransom

My eyes mesmerized by that shiny metal stud

That catches the hazy sun through the window

A ball-bearing sticking out of each end

Several studs in her perfect, right ear, probably her left



A blue suited police federal flies down the platform

Followed by another… then another

As we push away from the platform, northbound

A few short stops to the airport



She yawns, folding her slender arms over her half zipped red jacket

Hugging herself inside her dream

Shy smiling only to herself, in her private place



The journey continues, skimming down the rails past Zaventem

Almost coming to a stop but thinking better of it

The rhythmic movement of the train soothes



Bouncing a bit longer before slowing down,

Then stopping, as the train eeks to a halt

She stands and stretches hard

Her red boots carry her away







Michael Adubato





Michael Adubato was born and raised in New Jersey but moved across the ocean and settled in Belgium, mainly because the beer and soccer are better.  When he’s not at a stadium watching a game, he’s thinking about where to go for the next game.  He also writes about those games when the poems aren’t flowing.  His greatest achievement was convincing a beautiful Slovakian woman to marry him. 

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2 Comments

  1. I must add this work would have been more exciting if we knew where she was pierced.

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    Replies
    1. No, it would not be so exciting. This is an art journal; not Playboy. Keep your lewd comments to yourself. If you can't add something constructive, don't add anything at all. Sy.

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