I have seen her here before
Always on that stool by the window
Perched and fine as lace
Wearing summer dresses that leave
her shoulders bare as silk
Hair wild and dark as midnight
Falling around her face like surreptitious whispers
Looking out on the street
Oblivious to the small river of strangers
Floating either upstream or down
Later, when I think of her again
It is always just as she’s holding her cup in midair,
That selfless, tiny balancing act
Forgetting to sip because she’s thinking
How someone loves her the way
Fire swallows a city no one ever goes back to,
The way delicate animals run away from sudden sounds,
The way some quiet, unknown girl in a coffeeshop
Goes lost in a dream with a cup in her hand
A private smile on her face
For that nameless other one out there somewhere
Aching for the moment her shadow comes home
