Young woman,
With clothes too tight
And lips too bright to be considered tasteful
Saunters,
Half stumbling
Down the 6th isle of the drug store.
She grabs the cheapest brand,
And Looks up with frenzied eyes bright with fear,
As if anticipating the chastising tongue of an elder.
Her eyes dart,
High and low
Right to left
And for a moment she appears fledgling and vulnerable;
Like a child wearing her older sisters clothes and her mother’s makeup.
She turns to saunter on,
Half stumbling on shaky legs
taking the box with her to make purchase of it.
The uninterested 30 something behind the counter,
With spider like lashes,
Retro blue eye shadow
And poppy red lips,
Asks nonchalantly for identification.
She glances carelessly at the credentials,
Knowing well from the bleeding ink in between the plastic cards
That it is false.
Yet,
She allows the purchase.
Why should she give a damn?
Her shift was to end in the next five minutes.
And at least the girl was trying to be responsible...
Clutching tightly
The brown paper bag that seems forbidden,
The young girl with clothes too tight
And lips too bright to be considered tasteful
Saunters,
Half stumbling to the exit.
Her legs wobbling more now
Then they did when she first entered.
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