it was
your flat stomach
framed in low rise jeans, your
wallet on that chain, your swagger
your style
your voice
megaphonic angel baby
breathy lilting power
said please kiss me
girlie
guitar
sultry, your hips
forward, hair in your eyes
sullen teenage boy, pink bra strap
blazing
stomping
you owned the sidewalk and the town
"please meet my lawyah," you
told all who passed
proudly
pinball
and patti smith
flannery o'connor
foreshadowing, but for this poem,
thank you.