Poems by New Yorkers on holiday in the Berkshires, posting on and off from Fuel Cafe! July 2nd, 2014
I peeked. She was doing a good drawing – a hybrid of two patrons. I asked. She’s an aspiring actor and “occasional playful illustrator.” She also journals: “It’s weird to see my own thoughts on a page.” She usually doesn’t look back.
Gazing, staring
Blinking effortlessly. Mind open. Mouth wide
Sneaking a glance, scribbles. More scratches
on this white chalky page.
Brow furrowed, fingers clenched. Tongue wildly
exploring the roof of my mouth. Ah! The nose,
the lips, hair. Photo graphic memory is useful
at a time like this.
Will I remember you tomorrow? Will I keep
this portrait of a stranger I will never know.
Please don’t be angry with me.
I am just trying to capture you.
All of you.