Down In Sobe Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

I met her at a party,
One of those super cool ones, you know.
She had an air of avant garde,
The sculpted look of one 'in the know.'

The years had been kind to her figure:
Carriage erect.
her movement had not slowed
Since her twenties
(or so I imagined.)

Her conversation was strictly on the edge.
She spoke of freedom for the female,
Of injustice.

This morning I walked early
near the beach.
Empty beer bottles
littered the sidewalk
From high life on Saturday night.

Only a derelict or two wandered about
Only those whom hunger
had wakened early.

And there she was,
Clinging to a small tattered bicycle
With little bits of memorabilia
attached to it.

The sight was one of eccentricity,
Of a woman alone.

She said a shy hello.
There was a softness to her.
There was no talk
of freedom or justice now.

It was just an old woman
On the street
Whose dreams
Had not come true.