The Woman With the Golden Mustache

She was sitting on a bench in the park

by the tennis courts

folded into herself beneath bulky sweatshirts

her lap weighted with bags

 

The bench was surrounded by fallen yellow leaves and

her golden mustache glowed

I said hello

She said

“I don’t say hello to nobody I don’t know”

I said that was okay

 

The bag in her fist looked like a deflated golden balloon

held aloft before her, ready for the next round

the paint squishing out the top

and running down her fingers

 

Yellow

 

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