I sat, reading on a bench, at the harbor. She sat on the river bank, draped in a flag of pink precision, decorated by large butterflies, of various colors. She revealed, with head turns, to the left & right, that she was Asian. She took pictures, I wrote poetry. I wanted to leave, but she remained seated, so I was stuck: her willing captive. Her black hair cascaded down her back & both shoulders, and I wondered what life would be like, if she were in love with me.
I stood.
I turned.
I left the butterflies on the river bank.