Campus Bookstore mannequin

[Brownlie]

Behind some glass the figure stood
A red head’s tossing hair
Was frozen still with flowing locks
Bestrewn without a care

I stared into her cat like eyes
That watched behind a screen
A captured light that seemed to jump
From comic movie scenes

She called up many lonely nights
Of searching films for boobs
When I would pause to crust a sheet
And rue my solitude

I looked at her state uniform
And heard the tribal drums
That beat at stadium events
Amidst the drunken grunts

She was a paradigm of spring
That molded to a flush
To pander cap and gowns to buds
That brimmed upon a cusp