She was the type who looked for daytime moons
And collected old photographs
of people
She never met
Just to look at the way their hands fell
And the untold truths in their eyes
She wrote lists
Of
Colors
And flowers
And words
Breaking focus only to stare into
Thoughts of
Where she could be if not here
In an old bookstore smelling of must and history
Reading Vonnegut
At a cafe sipping earl grey
Listening to Count Basie tunes from scratchy speakers
Watching lovers
Young
Old
Secret
Finding new ways
To
Begin and end
A tryst
She was frequently lost in her mind
Searching for the perfect
Time and
Place
To escape into
Life
Fuller
Richer
More fragrant
Than from the corner
Where she watched it all
Pass
by
