Lunch
John G. Young, M.D.
Her long brown hair flowed
over flawless
Chicano skin;
a thin gold necklace curved
across full breasts;
her dress caressed her legs;
one sandal slowly moved.
Alert to the conversation
of the girls at her table,
she spoke little. . .
Languidly she lifted
to her mouth--
potato chips,
and softly chewed them.
I kissed her from my table
and left.