How a mirage works—

A small town in the south where nothing ever happens. A strange woman
walks down the sidewalk, slow as a damp fuse. You’ve heard this story
somewhere. She wears a silky blue dress, white hat, shoes. Carries a small
purse, white gloves. She might be looking for work at the library. She might
be looking to steal your man. No worry, she’ll never kiss him. She has no
name. In fact, no self at all. Summer hums in the air like a cicada. The
lawns, so green they blind you, flaunt gardenias, and on every porch
someone watches. She keeps coming, gets nowhere. If you live in the town,
she isn’t really there. If you’re the woman, the town isn’t really there. 


First published in Willow Springs    Copyright © Beverly Burch




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