THE GIFT
She sat at the empty bar
dressed in black, glasses, pixie cut
staring out high windows
San Francisco evening slowly getting darker
she stared at her cocktail, started to doodle
a series of figures and faces,
one tourist whiling away one last night in a new city
looking to New York and louder streets, home,
an art student making her way to a new job
across two coasts, across many lives,
drawing from the mystery of inspiration,
I glanced at her once
then back at my drink,
I had a million words in my journals
I said nothing, wrote down a line
which I erased, the script was predestined,
she smiled
I walked out with that gift
that was all, the clouds said
it might rain later.
No comments:
Post a Comment