(for James Benning)

The window opens upon the world
limits nothing now three floors up;
no life or death, he looks out at
quiet nothing: only wind reports.
His long hair lifting through the heat,
weft through warp into a moiré;

before his eyes, driving by, she
stops. City life is more than sums
of streets paved with rain and the gait
of grim pedestrians, more than
make-up in the rear-view mirror
and cell phone blather, though one
forgets such things when there is work
and child care and thousand small
items on the the honey-do list.
Her hands twitch; eyes are crusted dry.

These two will never know what they
have seen without so much as meeting
all the possibilities. No frame
reveals the promise of a just look
one more time, and hold: each the
other’s thought-filled, aimless gaze.

Categories Poetry

Omar Willey was born at St. Frances Cabrini Hospital in Seattle and grew up near Lucky Market on Beacon Avenue. He believes Seattle is the greatest city on Earth and came to this conclusion by travelling much of the Earth. He is a junior member of Lesser Seattle and, as an oboist, does not blow his own trumpet. Contact him at omar [at] seattlestar [dot] net

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