They don’t make a sound.
Not one that’s audible from five steps behind her, anyway,
but your mind inserts subtitles. And her hand is invisible
and the movement is quick as a flash
though all that’s visible is her black fur coat and streaming blonde (presumably fake blonde) hair.
And she carries on walking ahead.
on ponderously high heeled boots (also black).
And somehow in that movement,
leaning down to place coins (one? two?) in a cup held out by a homeless man,
and continuing in that slow walk down the street
in the dead of night
and when a bouncer says
to another bouncer as she passes,
it’s hard not to wonder,
but somehow harder to guess.