Between Page Turns

She sits on the sidewalk, not bothering
To find a bench or stool or place to sit
A book in one hand, a sandwich in the other
Though it's three in the afternoon
Between page turns she munches

Brown hair scattered to the wind
In a cloud around her head, waves
Of nature or waves of breeze indistingushable
Between page turns she stares intently
As cars on the street pass her by

Her eyes are gray in the shadow
Of her forehead tilting downward
Between page turns she holds the book crooked
Cocking her head to one side to read it
Keeping everyting angled slightly off from each other

Knees folded Indian style beneath her
Between page turns she shifts, tucks her legs
To her side like an Egyptian queen
Someone honks a horn, and if she hears it
She doesn't move or look up to see

Between page turns she sees nothing
But in the lull between 108 and 109
She flicks her eyes to the world around her
Notices no one has come to call
And returns them to the page