the thing about her
March 5th, 2009
The thing about Bea was, she didn’t care.
She sat in streets, watching cars swerve to avoid her. She sat in sidewalks, listening to people curse as they stepped around her. She lay on the floor in malls til the rent-a-cops would harass her.
She enjoyed it.
She threw Milk Duds at the movie screens. She blew bubbles in the matinee. She went to funerals of people she didn’t know and acted like she’d known them all her life. She swam in her hoodie.
She wore clothes that didn’t match in weather that didn’t make sense, and those faded blue sneakers all the time.
She was my hero.
I love this. It reminds me of a short piece I did once about a woman who wore cheese around her hips, big chunks strung on a wire like a belt.