I watched her walk to the pool,
the second pool, in the back.
I was in my truck, wrapping up
a podcast, another pull and a big ass beer.
She was wearing a fedora,
her only physical fault,
looking lost, and I wondered
if I could help her in the scenes of her life.
Skinny legs and cigarette hands,
stealing my attending from the cab
of my shitty summer truck
just for a moment minus six.
To that gal, to this night she needed
the side of the pool in the back,
looking determined to give up something angry,
because, to her, Facebook and wine won't help.