She looked like a hooker, you know
An impersonal being running the errands of atrocity
She looked like the type that drags and drops, all at once
She was dressed in black, her eyes drenched in a black eye-liner
Dark as her world seemed, I could see right through it
Her posture was one of certainty
She seemed to have had it all together
What intrigued me was her company
A decent guy, decent-looking in terms of character
You could just sense that there was some sort of vulnerability there
They were standing in a way that made me want to, or maybe I did
Conclude by saying that they must have been lovers
Contrary lovers, as Shakespeare would say,
They were star-crossed lovers
Please note that this not a judgement piece
I mean I am rather unqualified for that
I’m just simply sharing my observation, something that
Intrigued me to a point of an oblivious state
I could not put two and two together
But because I am one who does not take kindly to
Indescribable concepts,
I then made some sort of reasoning
That being of a slightly subjective nature
But then again, when are these things ever objective?
I looked at the pair quite closely, intensely, scrutinising their every move
For that would lead me to more informed thoughts
I could have been wrong but the manner in which they exchanged words
Was of familiarity
They must have been involved in some way, I thought
I mean, how often do you find a contrary pair in such harmony?
Not impossible, but how often?
Then she, the hooker look-alike, or the one
She stood behind him, placing her light hands
On his heavy shoulders
Most probably heavy because he wore the blue collar-coded robes
A uniform which represents hard labour
That is no judgement, let’s call it an assumption shall we
So she uttered some words, behind him
How I dread the things that are done behind the backs of the oblivious ones
He smiled.
He also had something to say, with his back on her
It made her smile too.
So they stood there.
I’m assuming that the plot unfolded, in some way
After my taxi drove off from the scene
My thoughts remain with them
I could swear there was a story there
Maybe someday, soon, I will uncover it.
Signed, on my way home.
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