jacqueline

             I know of her by the hat shop there, it came into view once

by the timing of my pace, 

the foamy cider, warm in my hands of paper

in the corner of the narrow space

there, I saw her

again, back at the five-foot desk which I had two yrs behind

in the night slumping over, often forgetting

that this was work, to be paid,

to be granted yet another two

weeks

pain in my sleep, I woke

the bottom of my tail-bone rubbed smooth

almost a dromedary

frothing in the mornings

for a shared smoke

alas I was empty,

but at it again, the hat shop on pine from where I ran into her

I was driving up 5th into the northern slums

where she would've preferred to have walked

"Are you crazy

the many times I 

honestly considered this

the vicious brother, a doctor, o, he was vicious
truth if there were any
from her story, walking in the home of
the English that she found solace,
like a mage she stood,
diminutive w/ her TARDIS

we were muted in the diner with our Polish or Czech waitress,
that I'll never distinguish   I had the buttermilk there

tears    She would walk through Knightsbridge w/ her bags
that, I figured
was the name
 and how large she was in this city
  and offering up herself in autumn
   that which is her element

That horrid north Philly house, that I left her there,
w/ her bags from which she fled promptly the next dawn,
found herself back in one of the western burgs

                               her father,
                               all she had left,

me, who drove past full one morning after breakfast  
watching her take in the city

in her eyes,
I saw all of this