In the subway
she flashed before me
right at the turn
of a darkening tunnel.
She may have been a ghost,
perhaps? No, that would be to easy.
I dismissed it.
On the bus
she dashed passed
the corner of my eye
right as the bus
was halting to a stop.
I pushed through the crowd.
She was nowhere to be found.
In a Taxi
she breezed passed me
just as the driver
sped through the yellow turning red.
Her face almost certainly a blur
could be, as the sun was blinding bright.
I put my RayBans back on.
On an early morning stroll
at the nearest of a farthest distance
she turned a sharp corner
prompting me to pace forward my pace.
Then like a mist, then like a fog, then like a ghost
she became unbearably surreal.
Because she smiled down at me from a billboard.
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