The scene.
Two women stand on the sidewalk sharing a chocolate cream puff,
Spines bent to me, ravenously protecting their feast.
Yellow oozes from their teeth,
Pastry rips softer than cotton, and
Sighs like the breaths of lovers escape their swallows.
A sign touting
Creative Office Environments for Inspired Minds
Hangs behind their heads.
I am sitting in a trendy hotdog eatery, people watching.
I do not plan on eating dinner
Or if I eat, I do not plan on eating mine.
How brave they are, I think, the women.
All women, really, but these in particular
With their tightly held treat.
If confidence is a rolling sea,
Womanhood is defined by pallor and green cheeks.
Your worst days spent slumped
Against the pillory of a toilet seat empty but heaving,
Your best days spent standing in a white dress
On the bow of a sailing ship, gorgeous and starving.
The story.
Feasting on street corners defies these teachings and
Pallor turns to Pallas. Femininity suddenly means hungry
And women lift the torch to carry inspired minds.
Candleships 