down the block

I haven’t seen the girl since midsummer. Now she comes through her front door. Something has changed. She has grown into herself. She has become enticing. She stretches and yawns, and takes her time settling down to sit on the top step. She tips her head one way, and then the other. What she is not doing is fidgeting. What she is not doing is posing. What she is not doing is waiting. After a while the corner boys come slowly out of the dark, one by one. They sit at her feet and ignore each other. She gives the street an idle scan. Minutes pass. Nobody says a word.

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