Magdalene (25)

She woke up.
She was fifty today.

Comparisons, she thought.

Then she wrote in her diary:

“Achingly dumb as a dog
Tied to a wrought-iron fence
Outside a coffee shop,
Its ass cold against
The concrete,
Its raw paws
Surrendering to the wait.”

She put her pen down,
Closed the book,
Opened the drawer
Of the night stand,
Gently slid the diary
Into the drawer,
Closed it,
Inhaled the odor
Of George,
Folded back
Her side of the covers,
Lifted her legs
To the floor,
Walked to the bathroom.

 

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