Jeffrey Winke

Slyly Out of the Corner

The woman wearing the black fedora looks slyly out of
the corner of her eye. The lighting falls on her in
spotlight fashion. It feels like a movie set, but this
is reality. With practiced poses, it's clear fedora
lady expects attention. We're in a fast food taco
joint and she plays it. While ordering a taco, she
reduces the hapless clerk to a stuttering, babbling
imbecile. I want to intervene and tell her to save the
theatrics for her next Match.com victim. I want to
tell him to grow a spine, but I know the poor chump's
one goal is to make it to 6:00 pm quitting time,
'cause at 6:01 he's free. The fedora woman completes
her order and moves about three inches to the side,
anticipating we'll all hold our breaths until she gets
her taco. I accidentally elbow her while making my way
to the counter. She lets out a pained yawl, like I had
prison-yard shanked her. 

ruby lips
part to form
a burp 


© 2009 Jeffrey Winke

Every Night and First Words

The plastic click sound means only one thing--
dentures safely returned to the bright-yellow
overnight box. She has four words to live by: BE GOOD,
DO GOOD, which is taped to her sink's mirror. The last
words she reads every night and first words in the
morning. This life code has served her well. She
smiles at herself and then hears the familiar, "Lights
out in five minutes" over the loudspeaker.

day x-ed off
the yellow shade hides
a full moon


© 2009 Jeffrey Winke