Oak Street Beach blasé, she was content to sashay the Magnificent Mile sans make-up. No one noticed, overwhelmed they were by her nocturnal stride. A moonlit prance, pounce, and pride still reflecting at mid-day. Yet nothing pale or frail about her. Not the picture of health, but a damn documentary. Of course her gait captured me, when passing me…me drinking lunch al fresco, how rudimentary. And stop the presses, take names and addresses, she’s turned, moving into my proximity. Lovely females often find others fearful to converse. My age allows the inverse. So I ventured and we got verbal, sharing lunch, Cathleen and I… friends call her Cat.
I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.