Mary Lewis

I’m a Writer

I yank at my tights, why did I wear these?
I am going to burn these in a dumpster fire once I get them off
Stupid. Why do grown women wear tights?
Ah, there’s the wine. Thank you Jesus!
So, what do you do? Green dress asks
She has spinach in her teeth
A shade darker than the dress
I will tell her, I would want to know
I’m a writer, I say, eyes glued to the teeth
Oh! Good for you! I could never do that.
Well, it’s not for everyone, I say. Hey, you have a little…
She tilts her head, didn’t you used to work at…
I did. It was just time to move forward. Try something new
Have you published anything?
I did. I published a poem in…
That’s great! I’ve never heard of that. Did they pay you?
I look around for you. Where did you go?
Ah no, but…
Oh.
So, what do you do for your like
real job
to make money
Well I…
Huh.
I sip. You sip. I take a longer sip. I start to strategize an exit
What do you do if you can’t think of anything?
 
Ah, I put it down for a bit. Take a walk. Do something else.
Wow. I’d love to have time like that.
Time is precious I say
I excuse myself and head to the bathroom
A woman holds the door open for me with a smile
Thank you, I say, grateful
and place my wine by the sink Z
In a stall I shake off my heels and yank off the tights
Freedom!
I will not tell her about the spinach.

Mary Lewis is a writer who loves her family and French fries. She currently has one published poem titled The Illusionist in Maya’s Micros, a forthcoming poem publication in HerWords and a forthcoming short story publication in Drunk Monkeys.