She had a face like a car crash
Laughter that sounded like broken glass thrown down a drain
Her desires and her skin were wasted
Dried up by too much booze and hours spent in the sun
Her clothes were expensive but from another time
Her smile was smeared with lipstick
And her hairstyle was a shade of bottle red that screamed defiance
She was smoking, languid on a bar stool, alone and aloof
The painted eyes a window to a history of violence
Yet she was gorgeous
She was unique
Calm and totally at ease
She was comfortable in her own skin
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A wonderful piece of writing, very postmodern and observational. Clearly written from the point of view of a photographer as the vivid description and attention to detail betray.
ReplyDeleteOlive Cullen