Mad Dog
The scene set, and she comes
I direct
Camera, tripod
In focus
Start with master shot
Street is Gerrard
(Weekend and empty)
People on bicycles
(Varied age, varied size)
Few cars and trucks
On the rails streetcars,
Strollers pushed forward.
And she walks
And she comes
(Right to the camera)
Wears red shorts
White visor
A headphone.
Texts, reads, writes.
Her legs long as lampposts
Chocolate; not black; bitumen
Burned, darkened
And her knees are well-carved.
And she comes.
Her chest and her breasts are OK
Fat are thighs; betray her
Belly's curves do the same.
She passes by our side
And no word is exchanged.
Dog...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem