She sat across from me in the shop

While I was waiting for a trim.

I tired not to watch her sitting,

Sitting there picking her nose.

She would examine her findings

Much to my disgust, my dismay.

There was nothing that I could do,

Far less than I could say.

I was disheartened by the experience,

She was of an indeterminate age,

Oriental by birth, sounding Vietnamese

Or perhaps even Cambodian.

The whole time I glanced, I glimpsed,

She appeared unconcerned, even unaware

Of my existence of the planet.

Through my quiet, inadvertant disgust,

I eviscerated her within my poetry.

09/22/2008

Author's Note: ... as I sat recently, waiting for a haircut...

Posted on 09/22/2008
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