Wednesday, 2 November 2016

Bag (November)

It’s a very large department store bag, rectangular. The label is big round letters on shiny exteriors. The bag sways down a Collingwood street. Slung over her shoulder by golden cords, what’s in it? A dress? A spring coat? Shoes for Oaks Day? Perhaps the answer is being transmitted through her oblong phone. She struggles with it in her free hand, thumb-numbering. Testing this balancing act are paving potholes, and ill-mannered motorists who parked their cars over the gutter. November sunlight warms the bag lady, skirting cats, catching breath. A hat? A fascinator? She turns the corner and is gone.

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