27 – Ships Passing
Not a blink, not a nod, he was old and young, bold and drunk.
Not staggered, not swaggered he flowed, never slowed, on and on.
She was svelt and she smelled, sweet.
Her hair blond brown she wore it down, loose on her neck, over the shoulder.
As the sun set the vectors were pushing them toward each other.
He didn’t notice, no juice vibe to attract him.
She didn’t notice lost in her ipod, locked in her iphone texticulating at the twitterverse.
Close now half a block, he flows left she’s keeping right.
75 feet he flows right, she sees the store fronts she’s passing.
50 feet he stops, peering into the void, she looks ahead to the end of the block.
They come abreast, she sneezes a gentle puff into a dainty hanky; he gets a whiff of sweet and sags nearly clubbed to his knees by beauty.