A Girl Grows Up in Seattle

Crowded Corners





by Elyse Brownell



A woman wearing pink socks,
her toes wedged between her one size too small flip flops,
Shorts in February, bruised legs, matted hair, her hands
holding onto something that wasn't there,
said today,

"I'm not a parade"

I wanted to follow her around, to join in on her "not parade,"
raise her up like an award or throw tootsie rolls at her feet.
I wanted to carve a float out of the side of the building,
Use chewed bubble gum as glitter,
Stoplights as wheels, a crown out of graffiti.

I could hear the band, the honking horns, the wind started to pick up
And blew her hair, lifted the scent off her, like a floating dragon.

I wondered if anyone else heard her say it,
If anyone else was as affected by this as I was,
Or if the pink lady and I,
on crowded corners,
shared a moment together.

2.22.2008

Personal note: Elyse is my youngest daughter. A graduate of GVSU, with a double major in Legal Studies and Creative Writing. Elyse currently lives & works in Seattle, Washington. As a Legal Assistant at a well -known & respected law firm downtown, I understand that she expects to return to law school to acquire a law degree. Elyse has become the woman I always wanted to be. I am truely in awe of her accomplishments. Of all my children, she is the most like me.

RRR: 1:5