My poetry/prose

Thisbe (I)

She twirled a wisp of her jet black locks, in deep thought, a copious amount of events engaged her already busied mind. Yet as if in listless indifference,she studied the little monogram squares embodying the caricature of a handbag slung smugly across the other woman's shoulder. At the same time her whimsical multitasking skills took a life on their own and carried her onto a9nother point of attention. The circles, always the circles. She wound her deep set eyes thoughtfully onto the ball of her feet,shifting and shuffling amongst the tiles in restless wonder. They seem to leap up at her in a chivalrous dance. In huge heads of circular forms.Big circles,medium circles,mini tiny circles. They had these lines that crossed at an uneven intersection,eventually resulting in a chain of circles. Those tiles. The Louis Vuittton bag. How they always went out as straight parallel lines but concluded in arms of suffocating circles puzzled and bewildered her. A cough, and another rudely forced her out of her reverie. The numbers changed,the nurse called. It was almost as if the bell had tolled.

It was not her first time anyway. She almost tip toed as she took ginger steps into her seat. The room reeked of fresh paint. She studied every detail generously taking in the wallpaper,those dense volumes of books that stood studiously upright in their proper shelves,like a battalion of disciplined G.Is. "Psychiatry,psychology,psychoanalysis,the mind reader ect ect", she uttered in an audible whisper as her eyes trailed to another point of fixation. Those certificates,his certificates of glory,she chuckled. The dated certificates hung astute,proudly in their angular fashion,they that defined his existence,his abilities as doctor. She wondered what would happen in a large emblazened fire. Would he cease to be a doctor  no more without his documented proof? Like huge rotating goggles,his glases hung loosely perching on his nose,as he threw her a sturdy,gentle smile.

She pored into his eyes,instigating a silent challenge. She wondered if she would drop her gaze first,yet noticing his gentle but focused smile never left her face. The constancy of that smile. He was talking to her,waving some pieces of paper in front of her. Her mind became slightly cluttered at that point. She tilted her head towards the ray of light that beamed from the sun. The sun that sat regally heralding his throne of the clear noonday skies,piercing his stare beyond the hues of the horizon.Once again,the circles. They trailed her like shadow dancers,stretching their spider arms in uniform fashion. The sun,no,the Louis Vuitton bag, no,it was those damn tiles from outside,no,the thick volumes of books,his certificates. No.Her mind was racing,yet her lips did not move,her eyes were empty but she was thinking hard. Those damn circles.