Smell of creme paper
Manilla painted with rain
And carried down the gutter
The planet frozen in time
Her dress at an angle of wind
Hair beneath the clutched newspaper
Air filled with sparrows of dew
And packets of deep blue peering out
The windows of muffled sky
And life inherent, electric
Sound of silent water
Click of automatic lights, muzak
Filtered hum of moving air
The cashier's upheld hand and smile
Cigarettes, magazines, Nicorette
The dripping girl of paint
Who wrings out her skirt in the doorway of rain
As if onto the painter's hand, where it stays
Through the wrinkles, the leaving
The chemo, the blindness
The movement of all things in its place and
The ending of movement
As it comes to where she waits
The ending of movement
As it comes to where she waits
The boredom
The quitting
The fighting
The violence
The dew is breathing through its incandescent lamps in the laundromat
At night
I'm coming I'm coming I'm coming
To where she waits