The hand follows the eye

Long black hair with layered bangs
and attitude,
a tribal arm tattoo of criss-crossing curlicues
“Stop right there bird.”
, hangs on the last word.
The General leans forward.
“I asked for an eyewitness account,
not for a fucking poetic study.”
“There are some alternatives you could employ to avoid that obscenity sir!”
There is a sound of paper crinkling
that you can’t put a name to,
followed by a knock at the door.
“Yes?”
The door creaks open,
the sidekick makes an appearance,
not before time.
“This report just came through.”
“Just give it to me in bullets.”
Points to the sender.
Points to the cc:.
The eye follows the hand.

For Kathi and for Paul


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