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

see if she's still there

standing like a statue