The Filth and the Fury ~ Sunday, June 7, 2026

The woman in pink with the J Crew bag

There she stood waiting for the Purple Line
how patient she appeared on the platform
even for a moment, she seemed so young

women are as mysterious as time
obviously, some obtain their beauty
mischievously, some without any scorn
across the expanse, a green bag, she clung
needlessly to the past, as if to youth

in a vision, with no sense of duty
no one could see her sensibility

pink sweater or jacket, she wore it well
in the city, her inability
not to appear feminine, a soft shell
kindness radiated as if the truth

within was not based on logic, who knows
if to hear her voice or to see her eyes
this much is true, distance is majestic
how soft her high arches, her little toes

that the heat of late spring started early
how angelic like a dancer, she spies
each to their own, Evanston, with its shtick

Jesus, starved and hungry, never drinks brine

Crickets, in the movie theater, chirp
realizing, Jesus is not burly
everyone knows, they were there at the cross
wonders never cease to amaze people

bitter and alone, could not give a toss
ask me what I saw under the steeple
given lightning for the devil, I burp

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