woman in a shop

A woman in a shop   She  sat in a shop that sells jumpers and scarves  doing some embroidery for a wealthy client who  wanted his name in big red letters to make it clear his exalted sanding, but also as a person who  bought wares made by hand  When the man who runs a famous site had gone in a fanfare surrounded by sycophants she tied on a silk dress of untold value and we embraced at the foot of hell the dress was not for the intended bride The girl, artis with needles and threads, had  green eyes as a bottomless sea impossible to  read in bedroom light or in a shelter waiting  for the bus to take us heavenward in the sin  of greedy sex and thorn lips   Oh, this heavenly day, a haze of dreams most of them unfulfilled, lacking in the truth as something partly remembered, a line  a famous poet wrote, but whatever it was she stung me with her needles