Street Boxing
Original composition date lost - pre 2008 | journal
A woman bent over the box that had spilled
Its guts on the ground like a burst bladder filled
With the sorts of prizes one spies in pinatas at parties
Surprises of sizes both small and incongruous
She's picking and choosing
Selecting the ones to go back in the box that she'd dropped
To go back with her thoughts
One at a time
She takes her time
So placid
No hurry
No worry
Just work