Speaking of Avocados

A quiet unraveling unfolds in the city’s indifferent rhythm.

speaking of avocados,
it painfully dawned on her
that the green coat was a mistake

she had hoped to emit a rebel’s glow
with that trendy hue against her ripe skin
or at least a hint of 'sexually active'

but she could deceive herself
so marvelously in that cracked mirror

her old-fashioned coquetry would
have blended unnoticed
in fur or Burberry
but under the harsh glare
of these city streets
such facade
is viciously dismantled
and met with frosty indifference

even the faintest catcall
from the dampest roofer
could have thawed her day
on this tepid morning
but instead she's met
with the dull thud of nails
hammering into new roofs
below which
nimble twenty-somethings
will soon fuck
their way into the future

I caught her eye on a crowded bus
and kept my seat
like a crooked compliment
that suited me just fine

there she stands
like a singular cactus
teetering
on the brink of oblivion
searching
for the receipt
and for words to
match that catchy tune
she’s been humming
so fanatically all day