Humphrey sees the dame going
by the door as he’s booking in at
the hotel, for the moment she
seems frozen there as if the gods
had wanted him to get a glimpse

of beauty before she moved on
and back into her life far from his.
He stands there gazing, his eyes
taking in each aspect of her shine:
the hat the shoes, the two piece suit,

the plenty of leg and best of all her
face and the way she was looking
at him. A posh car is waiting outside
the lobby, she stands there her eyes
drinking him in, he ignores the booking

clerk who is talking to him, what is
the **** on about when he has beauty
just outside standing and staring, maybe
waiting for him, waiting for him to go
to her and converse. It’s New York City

1920 and there she is, his Helen of Troy,
she who no doubt could sink a few ships
or break a heart or two, but what to do?
He stands and stares, his mind in a haze,
she moving off and into the car, no time

to think or wave, she’s gone, the car away
along the street, lost in the sea of traffic,
he senses a tear in his heart, an opening
up, a lost chance, beauty fled. The booking
clerk talks, his words like rainfall on a tin

roof, his gormless gaze. Humphrey looks
at the face of the clerk, his dark eyes like
small black pits, Yes, that room will do,
Humphrey says, taking the key, wanting it
over, his day kind of blessed and spoiled,

beauty come and gone, a chance not taken,
a mind messed up, a heart near broken.