Abnormal in her individuality,
she leaned against a tree,
viewed by the woman walking her dog as a crazy girl.
She was barefoot, after all,
so how could she be sane?
What kind of a person leaned against a tree, barefooted,
sipping from a large plastic glass?
A crazy one, of course.
Noting the woman,
the crazy girl smiled vaguely in her direction,
polite. But who was polite anymore?
The woman walking her dog turned away,
pretending she hadn’t seen the girl,
adverting her gaze to rest on a nearby hedge.
She continued on her way without a backward glance.
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