She showed off her manakin feathers,
strut in her clothes as a bright red lover
and curled the whole world with her delicate
swan neck.
He introduced himself again,
felt her hair and cupped her back
with his eyes,
told her stories and legends, as if she
didn't already know
his name.
They walked through the park
early autumn,
buttoned their coats as older men
forgot their regrets over chess,
held their hats as the wind blew,
and wives sipped conversation over tea,
mostly oblivious to their lopsided hair.
Vanity
will be back to critique on others shortly - very sorry!