PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She looked good standin' there in a tie-dye halter and pair of well-worn chinos, hems rolled up, pink dollar-store flipflops on her desert-beaten feet. He inspected her up and down, those pants, the way they perched precariously over her hip bones in need of constant yanking to keep them from falling down around her ankles. Did they belong to an ex-lover or maybe she had brought them with her from some far distant star system, all that remained of the uniform she wore when she had left her home planet because she was so unusual that she could not possibly be from here. They appeared familiar as his eyes fixed on the lilac streak of paint running down the front of the left leg. She broke his concentration by bending over to look at herself, "Whatsa matter, did I spill something." He shook his head, what could he say No I was just admiring your trousers? That doesn't sound creepy at all. He settled on "Uh those pants sure look comfortable."

"Yeah they're a couple sizes too big but I like em that way. Can't stand the feeling of anything tight over my belly. I got them in the giveaway box at DJ's a long time ago." Her voice trailed off and he thought to himself, they used to be dark teal green now faded to a sand-washed seafoam. That lilac streak splat from a painting he had done depicting her energy field as she stood across from him on Michael's deck during prayer circle. She was lit from behind by the setting sun, her aura flared up around her, made all the more vivid by the indigo dress she was wearing. They were his favorite workpants, vanished mysteriously on a hiking trip down into the Grand Canyon.