That was the last time I ever saw her-
through a shop window, sleeves to her elbows.
I walked past and kept on walking
and lit a smoke with my hands shaking.
She was something else
A few summers ago
we spent weeks in her room
just having sex and listening to jazz
and that was the life.
But I didn't know at the time
Blinds drawn at twelve noon
with daylight pouring through
projecting lines on her body.
Move on, move on, move on
Smoke your smoke and move on
I should go back to
see if she's still there
standing like a statue
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