Disturbing and disconcerting,
like saddles on cattle
or a rattlesnake rattle,
her enthusiasm in the
early morning gloom
of the medical center lobby,
a large and slightly dark room,
put me in a pensive
and slightly defensive frame of mind.
The shirt was expensive.
“Nice Aloha shirt,” she
shouted across the lobby,
which was populated by
the lady, her daughter,
my wife and myself.
I said, “Thank you,”
thinking she was referring
to something much darker
than my cream colored
Tommy Bahama silk
Hawaiian shirt.
I did not like that woman.
I did like the shirt.
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