I saw you down the street
I caught a glimpse of your red hair
The glint in your eye
Then you were swallowed up in the crowd
and you were gone

Something about the texture of
layered limestone on a bed of red sand
in Ojo Caliente
sends a jolt through me
but the moment passes
like an electric field
through me
but neglects to burn the equivalent
language into my brain

I caught the edge of your red silk dress
just then
and felt the soft weave
I hung on as you danced over the water
and soared over mountain peaks
but at 10,000 feet
I lost my grip
and now I am
10,000 feet down
Where was it to? The rest of that flight?
Can I take the next plane
and catch you up
Apparently all flights are full
and I must sag back down to the ground
in this nameless spot on which I have
landed.

Ellen A.Wilkin