Place

She waited in the small lobby
between front door
and library, that space
that creates a vacuum
to keep weather at bay
during cold winters
and hot summers.
Hunched over a notebook
or a magazine,
I couldn't really tell,
her heels were tipped back,
and her legs scooted out,
on the bench but not.
Muscles flexed, flesh
not touching the surface beneath.
Had she stood she would have been tall,
thin, even awkward perhaps.
You don't need
to sit thin, I thought.

It wasn't until the snow
bussed my cheeks,
that I realized she might
simply have found a comfortable
position.