Sorceress

Her tree bark colored hair
bounced while she walked down
the stone stairs, and leaned against
a streetlight while she waited
for her ride to pull right up to her.

The car rolled in straight from
the 1960s although I did not know
the name and the door opened
by itself as if by magic.

She climbed inside and it carried her
away from that bright corner
by the Italian restaurant
where Saturday night converged
with Sunday morning.

That day began
and I sat smoking on
a milk crate in my
echoing apartment
watching the sunlight
progress shadows
on the wall.

I drank water from my hands
and stole a paper from
my neighbor
and with a dried up pen
I filled in all the puzzles.

After a while I got out of there
and walked around as
light faded from town,
and while staring
at the water rushing
underneath the broken bridge,
I couldn’t help but think
I should have said hello
to her.