I’m drawn to her hung up
on the particulars of her workings
like a marionette dangling
on the strings of my subconscious
never knowing when or how
I’ll succumb to her power
without question or objection
her brief breeze of disruption
billows my limbs suspended
in a scene I can’t locate but t
know I’ve seen before.
Like that old man in the café,
pebbles in his voice
as he orders sorbet from the waitress.
I know he’s about to start
hacking a lung into his napkin,
turning everyone’s edibles to phlegm.
They drop forks with disgust
as I revel in the moment,
a split-second oracle
predicting each action
with clever clairvoyance,
matter-of-fact exactness.
Amongst my company
she’s chosen me, the only one
given sight like clips of future-history
spliced into present-tense synapses
for my exclusive viewing.
Then just like that she fades,
as does her mental gift,
cigarette-burned from existence
before I get greedy with the glimpse.
I stumble in pursuit of her
as she darts back to nothingness,
the nimble nymph of memory,
too quick and surely snickering
in the sudden interruption
of some other schmuck’s oblivion.
