enharmonics

She's just a rich woman
In love with the middle class
Wanders the barren streets
Chewing on the only thought she knows to think:
Am I now? Am I then? Am I here?

Eats a cookie in a forgotten shop, on a forgotten corner
And leaves saying "I was happy there"--
with the quiet sounds and the quiet smells
and the quiet people smiling from dusty tables

The crumbs are gone, but the taste is there
Like a broken heart beating in her mouth,
The scattered ashes of a lonely soul
Spreading like wings on an upward draft

Maybe, above or below it all, the scrawling, plaintive yawp
Of an infant that might be hers
Or could have been hers
But isn't

She digests the time, the place, the knowledge
The things that float under it all like a hidden wave
She breaks it all down, dwelling on the simple facts of
Life:

I am time. I am a speck in motion,
Riding the currents,
Rippling in lonely glacial pools
Digesting life in forgotten coffee shops
on forgotten corners