hat pin and needle

i saw two trees
and a woman with a pear.
she held onto her fruit basket
refusing to share,
brushing watercolors,
smearing her eyes;
she read a hand-written message
scribbled in lies.
i wore a hat pin and needle
and started to dance.
it felt like compulsion,
like singing in France.
my guitar strings were wooden;
my bottle brown beer;
when i called to the lady,
she refused to come near.