Murray MouldingSidewalkAmong all things visible and invisible comes a leopard all her quicksilver rippling the jeweler's window-- nobody who isn't going somewhere I'm the cast shadow on this patch of lawn watching the door for Judith and our granddaughter inside trying on the shoes. Noon and I perspire, engine ticking where they park you for an hour half awake, our daydreams ask for trouble chewing bubble gum, dark glasses, a distant smile-- What am I seeing?-- past the jeweler's now she turns, her hair electrified as if my secret dawned on her and splashed while Third Street burns in affluence and summer noon and I don't know where to look. In her distance and she in my idea we pretend the indifferent circling isn't dos-a-dos and I'm not sunk in August. Aren't you my lover boy? Do I if you do? Nothing hurts if you're a password and she's the spy so quick leopard, before they nab us you say me, and I'll say you. Murray Moulding writes: I teach creative writing at Red Rocks Community College, here in Denver, and have published fiction in Kansas Quarterly, Mississippi Valley Review, Viva, and elsewhere. Poetry has recently appeared in Buffalo Bones and The Rock. I've taught writing in colleges in Illinois, Montana, Oregon, and Colorado. Home | Editor's Desk | Poetry | Prose | Guidelines | Email | Links |