Rita’s eyes are wide open –
The contact lenses make them look bigger.
She drags her oversize blazer along as a carpet
In the middle of an eight-lane road
Her curls are the silhouettes of her thousand
Attempts.
Rita is traveling to India
While having sex with you
One of these nights when she lets herself go
Like a wave of frozen dark energy;
A giant neon sign points to her mind
Slightly closed-eyes
Far away mirages of happiness
The closest feeling of a never-ending
Break from life
The closest to tears you’ll ever get
While feeling nothing but good.
Rita chose many years ago
To get rid of that half-lost expression
To get rid of that almost bad mood
Her mother always carried.
She settled into a land made of straight lines
And large geometrical patches of full color:
She is still working there
With her messy hair and her yet to be found love.
© Irene Senatore 2023-08-14