I’m in the park, walking underneath the chestnut trees. They have that green color that looks so impossibly new, their blooming branches swaying up and down in the breeze. Underneath them, the sun draws sharp lines of demarcation, clearly proclaiming what is light and what is shadow. People mill around in it, unaware, in light and in shadow, trying to soak up this relative warmth after a long cold spring. Suddenly I see it. A neck, a posture that looks familiar. He has his back turned towards me, but then he turns his head to something his companion says and he laughes, unawares. He surely looks different when he laughes. The girl that is his companion is someone I don’t know, she has peculiarly colored hair (green? grey?) and a wears a trench coat, she’s short and unfamiliar, and I wonder who she is and how they got to know each other and yet it tells me volumes at the same time. His face, the face that I didn’t know, smiles at her and they walk off, oblivious to my attention. They flicker in and out of light and shadow, in and out of focus. And suddenly, they’re gone again.
I’m still here under the chestnut trees. Maybe I’ll see you some time.
Walking my baby back home
One Monday afternoon
Looking for escape routes
A pleasurable ennui