a fleeting stark night, pasted colors and
brittle nosies cascading off the cobblestone streets
a beautiful awning where rain jewels
and warm, yellow ochre glow blossoms
from the store window, the puddles swirl
in their gleeful song, and the city
escalates to a breathing, clattering, makeshift
of mankind

there upon a skip, upon ancient stone
and the rhythm of clicking heels,
abruptly whisked with the shout of walkers,
there, upon an awning night
of brisk rain air and pasted colors
there, next to the shop window
with the raindrops shining like bejeweled webs
a chance meeting, nervous eyes waning
like a long note on a violin,
cheeks flushed and lips lush
a chance meeting
where two
may begin