she walked
down to
the fair-down the
hill downhill
to the fair--sky was black
and peeling--cars
windows rolled up
sat driver-less on
street corners
under big red signs
the sky was reflected on
lights hung up over canvas--
it seemed about to
rain--and it would rain,
she thought as she walked
downhill tiptoeing slowly
watching her step, they said
it was going to--
she had grey eyes
her mother looked at her
each morning and after the
girl left for school, her mother
would think about her daughters
sad eyes,
but they were like the
sky, really, neither happy
nor sad,
they just were,
without beginning or end,
when she reached the fair,
big globs of rain wet her
gray dress dying it black
in large cool blotches--
the vendors sunk beneath
off-white canvas, closed their
doors,
she knocked silently on
leather hides, thin metal poles,
she danced home
under rain clouds
between drops
laughing.
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