She’s walking
through
rivers
to get to someplace,
unimaginable. But
I know better than
to think it’s
better than here.
She’s watching
the water droplets
cling to surfaces with
great intention,
I see her across the
street with her rubber
boots and her poncho
and she’s checking her
watch and she’s waiting
for someone and each
time they never show.
I like to imagine who she waits for.
Maybe it’s a guy. No, more
likely it is a relative, her aunt,
her cousin, coming to take her
far away from here and this
and taking her to there,
where ever that is.
Every time I see a sigh
I see a flicker of something,
maybe it’s disappointment,
or regret, maybe it’s relief
and she shivers in the cold
and she gives up, turns
around and heads
towards
home.
