Walk up and down the hallway
one hundred times,
meditation on the slanted floor.
Dust arises and settles along the wooden molding.
where the mice would play in cold weather.

She clenches her teeth,
jaw stiff,
wearing hand dyed tie dyed pants from Ecuador,
ya old hippie.
Her eyes roll.
Her hands fingerspell words.

August is winding to a close.
Was there ever a winter ?
Many people wear sweaters.
She feels itchy.

Cold breaths of air escape from the air conditioner.
Her arms are freezing.
Her hair moves slightly.
Time to go out into warmer weather.
She hops over coloured chalk drawings,
out of the hundred year old building.
Not many people walk on this street.
She puts on her sunglasses.
She is ready,
steps over the mantra of cracks on the sidewalk,
sketches of her day.
Om Shanti,Om Shanti etc....

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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