Strangers Strangeness

A thing I thought I saw
a thing I should have seen
you, asking me,
“Is this seat taken?”
And I, my face on a book
not able to hear.

How long has it been?
One, two, three– or one hundred years!
My muse, which made who I am;
My muse, which changed who I have been
her body, just like once
close to me
asking, “Is this seat taken?”
And I, daydreaming–
thinking I’m seeing dreams.

It was strange!
Unable to hear, unable to speak
I wrote a thousand poems
in a single second–
but after another second
just as she left,
they all, just like her,
with her– disappeared…

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