Oh what am I doing?
Where am I?

She suddenly arises
and finds herself
write alone
at the corner of a street café

Almost midnight
Traffic
-an ambiguous passer by-
endlessly composes
lingering silences  
in between

with a half gaze
around half a circle
She gradually notices
a half drunk cold-now
cup of tea
a half eaten pastry
some halved eyes
eyeing her
behind half a skull  
in curiosity

but
her half look
is being called urgently
down again
by the reverie

She as if from another planet
sees back her hands  

Hands write on just
ceaselessly
without needing her
without her knowing

Wow! she says
and  sinks back to her dream
to become a truth of the words