Hawthorne, CA, Los Angeles
Somewhere down the rocky coast
She sits with her Pink Pearl eraser.
Doggedly she scrubs and blows;
Sweeps the crumbs on painted toes;
Horizons raised, once drawn too low.
The image cleared begins to chase her
Far away and long ago.
Scotch plaid blanket, wine on toast,
Neutral pants with blue-black blazer,
Alone atop this large sheer stone,
Prepared to face time on her own,
A perfect rose sits smartly clothed,
Precisely as her mother raised her,
Presentable if overflown.
The lady's mind absorbs the scene:
Waves crash upon the marble mesas,
Unchanged since times before the sea,
First time impinged by pink debris,
A part of her once more released,
New remnants of the face she traces,
Replacing scars she can't delete:
Impressions no Pink Pearl erases.