like the queen of sheba

she was standing ever so gracefully on the corner of lynwood and del rosa. watching the traffic drive by like it was her throne room. she couldn't have been past the tender age of eighteen, but she carried herself like a woman, she popped out her hip and took slow drags. she let the smoke of her cigarette drift from her lips like a freshly shot pistol. she wore a light purple hairstyle, done up in braids and pulled back. that do stood out like a tulip in the gray cityscape that engulfed us. there was something in her eyes, power and pain, shining out of those black beads. as i drove by i tried to see what was hidden behind that mournful face. the clouds hung above that purple head and the traffic slowed to a molasses drip. she gave me a gaze that i couldn't decipher, it looked part boredom and part summoning. what are you doing to this world homegirl?