Sunday, January 17, 2010

poem 3, Isabel

She came into view yesterday, briefly

on Ninth Street. We waited together

at the stoplight. I absorbed the sight of her

like I had emerged from darkness to feel the

sun. We crossed as the light turned

and I resisted the urge to stop and watch

her continue on the other way.

All I ever get is a snapshot, a glimpse,

a momentary sighting. She comes and goes

as quickly as a star shooting across

the night sky. But like the star, the sight

of her remains in my mind, heavy like the taste

of chocolate on my tongue.

If only I could collect the snapshots and fill

an album, and linger in the pages as I had lingered

on the street corner. Then the collection of single images

could become a moving picture, a bonding of varied

stills to create something vivid and monumental.

Like a movie star, she will never be real.

1 comment:

  1. Hey,
    Would you believe I've run out of compliments for you? (well for your writing anyway). All I can do is repeat what I've said before.

    did you have fun watching the awards last night? Did you watch those? I saw your favorite show win whatever award it was they won - and I enjoyed watching and knowing who they were (well just the one actress really). I told C as much.


Your feedback, please...