Still Life

They gather around her like
ants on a dropped piece of sucker or
flies on hamburgers left on a picnic table.
Her eyes red and bloated,
from tears forcing their way out.
Tears that pushed like people in line for autographs.

She sucked in air in quick chunks,
careful to tilt her face just so
that snot didn’t hit her upper lip
and she looked up into their faces
and they frowned like they cared.

But really,
they just wanted
a story to tell later,
about a girl
sobbing into her magazine while
sitting in the park,
like a side show or zoo exhibit.