Hot pink heels and a thermostat heart that guesses what she wants.
She’s into fuzzy things, casual disregard and nonchalance.
The car she drives is just as worn out as her second guesses.
You couldn’t tell her daughter is twenty by the way she dresses.
But she knows that nobody’s calling, she’s fully aware.
They grin at her sun-damaged skin and platinum blond hair.
The streets are calling her name and her sleepless desires.
Talk is cheap and her empathy isn’t for hire.
Yet she extends her palm towards the sun setting over city lights
As she takes a stranger’s hand disappearing into the neon night.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 