At the nearly empty parking lot, near the supermarket,
two plastic bags danced in the spring breeze.
They elegantly circled each other, came near, almost
touched, but danced away from one another only to
meet again in a close circle; know they shyly touched.
A paper napkin with smeared lipstick on wanted to
join in, but the two plastic bags had only eyes for each
other. Deeply humiliated the napkin took refuge under
a car, but the car drove off and it had nowhere to hide.
So it began dancing alone, in slow motion, with eyes
closed as it was dreaming and the lipstick smiled.
A gust of wind came, blew the napkin high into the sky
and away from the parking lot to a secret place of peace
only exploited paper napkins know of.