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
