She Is Fey He Said
She’s lived there for years, he whispered as I pointed out her silhouette.
Why whisper I thought. There is no way she can hear us; she is inside.
She’s fey, he told me. Kind of touched, believe in faeries and stuff.
This did not discourage me. I had seen her pretty black hair and slim figure.
Clouds hung like heavy sleeves tonight; it was not a great day for a barbeque.
Did you invite her? I asked him. He had promised that he would invite others.
I was irritated now. We had a deal; he was supposed to invite her.
She’s just weird, he said. I never talk to her or anything.
Silhouettes of a harsh life point to his meanness in not inviting her.
You invited all of the neighbors except her? He stared at his boot.
The rudeness of this hit me wrong in so many ways.
Well, she’s different, he hemmed. Yes, she was. I could see that.
Floating daydreams crumble into night dreams as I stared into the fire.
I am going over there, I said. To invite her to come have a hamburger.
My friend did not stop me. She was lovely, but made an excuse.
I wanted to ring my friend’s neck, for his blatant prejudice.
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