Empty of Conversation

Vent blowing air supposedly cool

But not enough for my ruddy complexion,

Sweaty hands folded against red arms.

Legs crossed, heeled feet to ooze preparedness.

Red lips, made up eyes with elegant shadow.

Dry skin, salty sweat.

Fear or indifference.

As the purse pull her shouldrs uneven

And she strices to adjust her slouch, raise her chin.

Some would think confidence comes with those,

But she has seen it faked, imitated.