I asked her for a remedy for rough skin,
warts and skin eruptions.
She, a profesional, a graduate, a pharmacist even,
shook her head, I was getting no help from her.
It wasn't that she was unkind
it was just that she was detached
and who can blame her
Old men don't interest young attractive women
brimming with life and all the other things
a man can think about.
Impasse, no movement, no give, no suggestions.
I waited, trying to think of a way to get
her engaged, commited. I knew the owner,
puffed up prima donna, a toad.
I could imagine him telling her:
"Don't stick your neck out, act shtum.'
The seconds dragged on and I noticed
the outstanding beauty of her eyes.
She was of a slim build, the modern woman.
Not overly sexy, she dressed smart - a business woman
Her face ordinary enough, not ugly not plain
But her eyes were gorgeous.
A man could fall into those eyes
and enjoy drowning
There was not much colour
But the texture made up for it
and there were patterns of light
that drew you in. There were galaxies
there, spinning in the light.
She noticed me staring and the hint
of recognition turned up one corner
of her plain mouth. She knew she had
eyes that cast spells on old men, little
boys and wannabe lovers.
"I think your eyes are gorgeous," I said.
Who is your doctor?" she asked. I told her,
"Jones the bridge." His surgery leaned over the old bridge.
"Oh! him." She said.
"He's useless." I said, matter of factly.
She made no comment other than to say,
"Try Dr. Evans the boat, he's very thorough
and follows through." Her face relaxed then
lit up. She had showed me that she was not
stone, she was alive and like most women
enjoyed a compliment even from an old man.
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