…you in your new digs,

that old 4-story-walk-up in the Village,

searching the popcorn ceiling

for the 27th time

by a neon-light-lit below.

Or a passing taxi, brights on,

shimmers across

the bumps, jags, creases, edges, flat-smooth-spaces

above you.

Or your reading light’s on dim,

just enough to doze into deep sonorous breaths

and, maybe, you turn your head, just a smidgeon,

or your eyes slo-mo blink,

(or maybe the most thrilling impossibility of all!!)

She wasn’t there before!

Until She is!

Yes!

There!

Right above you!

(or to stretch the simile just a bit!)

on the ATM line at the BOA on Broadway and 8th Street….

OR across from your table at Emilio’s Italian on 6th Avenue

next to the Waverly Theatre…

a dot of pizza sauce on her right lip,

her cherubic face,

(like in the popcorn!?)

perhaps a Betty Boop, tight-curlicued cut

like a crown,

a pair of dark eyes,

open wide,

surprised!

To see you!

Yes!

She’s looking at you!

At last!

Staring back at her!

And she’s eating alone…

as were you…

way back then.