18 may - kotor & perast, montenegro
on the bus old women converse with jutted jaws and knobby chins. one has swollen legs, varicose veins in her feet, from many years upright. her ankle is wrapped to hide the ugly, heavy. her husband wears light red. the creases in her face spell long forgotten words and syllables, suns, moons. the women wear simple shirts of solid colors.
a woman flags down the bus as we overtake the mountain peak. we slow down. she has a mole on her chin and short hair. a child in capris holds her hand. in his other, a lunch box. they are at the mouth of a long driveway that continues up into the mountain. when the bus stops, the woman leans in and gives the lunch box to the bus driver. she waves good bye. the boy looks at me through the window then looks away, timidly.
|our lady of the rock, perast|
she sits, eyes squinted
looking at traffic, hair red.
i was in her sights.
|dragan, my captain|