Reclining in an empty chair
like a bent-over palm
the young Asian woman leans.
Awaiting the next client,
leg kicking softly
head odd angled, staring
at nothing
and sleeping.
September creeps through
as the customer doorbell rings.
Ladies don’t come. Their nails
flake off the remains of summer’s
hard baked sands
from lake-front properties.

She shifts,
dreaming of a faraway place
where family lives
imagining rice fields tucked far away
where her tiny feet once ran
through a needle-thin pathway.
She becomes disillusioned,
while melancholy mood music
gently rocks her
till her lashes flicker
and close once more.

© 2017, Michele Riedel