G is for Greeting

They  are always there as I pass by.

Brazen young things in their work uniforms; short skirts above long slim legs,

wearing their come hither smiles.

Bravest of the group,  one waves and beckons me over.

Not to be tempted,  imaginary blinders up, I walk on,

ignoring her greeting.

Hey mister, she calls, “wanna buy some Girl Scout cookies?”

 

 

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