first Saturday of Spring / by Britta Badour

she smokes her cigarette like an act of service to be
quiet her relief turns violet and then indigo like the
glow o' a night stereo she's most thankful when she's
let off work early (even fifteen minutes early is early)
she's got a florescent pink heart and a red brick wall
to run around that so when the working day is done
her worries sound like the rim of a dime rubbed rapidly
along a vinyl record followed by hums equal to taking
satisfying gulps of water on the first Saturday of Spring