Weaver Street at 15 (March ’04)
Dark-rimmed Carrboronians use muscular
hands to lift and twirl hair in a rain-soaked
morning that leaves moms and kids bewildered.
Over organic oatmeal, Mexican scrambled eggs,
home fries and humus, conversations fly from
clear-cut developments, to eight shades of green,
to upcoming Reiki sessions. Which parts of today
will be remembered tomorrow to tell red-heads
surrounded by admirers, or lost friends waving to
your inner landscape? What about his latest bout
of ego-fusion: cacophonous mumblings accented
by the hysterical giggle of eureka-struck feminists.
Arch-backed stretching maneuvers surface to
draw your eye away from a stunning new arrival.
She gets up, snickering, as soon as the pony-tailed
Latin Studies T. A. approaches the last chair.
Outside the eating end of Weaver Street Market
our red-head now walks a young Siberian Husky.
The post-graduate table fills up, and one last
“wow” of approval wafts back amid “ciao” and
“buh-byes.” A budding socialist smiles, confident.
T.A. = Teaching Assistant.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2002, 2004. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.