RANDSHAW MUSES

A MAN AND HIS THOUGHTS

Randshaw stands in a shop

Behind a young woman.

He studies her figure.

Nice legs. Bit thin maybe.

Not as thin as Minnie’s.

Matchsticks. He moves closer.

She is next in line to be served.

Nice bottom; firm, but not big,

Not floppy; not like Bet’s. Hips good.

Childbearing Mother would say.

The young woman moves forward

To be served. The waist goes in nicely.

Put arms about easy. Squeeze.

Would do if she were mine.

She moves nearer. Perfume,

Not cheap. Powerful, but not

Overwhelming.  He wants to

Feel her hair, but holds his hands

By his sides. He sniffs the air

Around her. He cannot decide

Which brand. He holds in

The scent of her. Closes his eyes

Momentarily. Tries to imagine

Waking up beside her. He opens

His eyes and she’s gone. Yes, Sir,

Can I help you? The till girl asks.

Maybe, Randshaw says,

Maybe. Let me see...