a star goes shopping
douglas spangle
Mouth set unmoving
as on a mask, she shops
for flashy clothes. There
as usual is a photographer
she obviously ignores,
for I see her pictures here,
grim as Medea, eyes
like gone in the distance.
There's nothing I see that's not stylish,
nothing in her that's with joy.
How will the years leave her?
She seems unhappy. Does she know?
Her eyes, avoiding the camera,
stare into a far nowhere
as she absently holds a loaf od bread.
My telling this does her nothing;
While I'll do what I'll do,
she'll live here in the scandal sheet
that lives on her reputation,
but her eyes,
deep fron scescents of shadow,
look back for something she's lost.
