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The wind pushed her sleeve off her shoulder

And it billowed lightly in the breeze–

A little mindless Monroe moment

In a place far off the set and screen.

She didn’t bother to fix it

–she wasn’t that kind of girl.

Didn’t bother to conceal her newly exposed shoulder

Bare and pale against the flash of hot pink–

She liked that the burning contrast made her smolder

Liked to imagine what others would think.

No, the wind continued its due course

Moving across her body in fluttering caresses

She let it move willingly,

Throwing at it all her cares and stresses.

Her life was one of the many messes,

And she didn’t even know it.

Oh, but did she show it.

Her hair had dyed long ago,

Once platinum as snow,

Now a deadened shade of green.

She’d been all but mean,

But when I’d see her screaming at her folks

I could see through the impalpable facade she wore about her

–An invisibility cloak draped around her shoulders

Made of bitter words and dejection.

I must call to attention

That, casting aside that veil about her shoulders,

She was but a lonely orphan girl.

But the veil held strong,

Winding its way about her,

Cutting off her air

Until she could no longer cry out that she was scared.

She convinced herself that this was who she was–

An independent woman

Age fifteen, hitting the streets.

She’d laugh and talk about the easy money,

Her bright future of illegitimate success

She would not confess

Her disillusionment, could not voice her great regrets

For she’d chosen this path for herself

–or this path had chosen her

And, during late nights in the streets of Waikiki

The veil tightened its hold around her shoulders.

There the mysterious Marilyn remained,

The wind carrying her hopes and dreams away.

I waited not too far away, ready to catch them

Bring them back–

If only she’d too come back some day.

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