Memories Of Faces/Lost In Shadows

Sometimes when a person gets a new job
or retires, they come back to spend some time
at the old place. Maybe they’ll work part-time
or they’ll volunteer or just visit friends.

I knew a woman who worked hard and smart
and if you had a problem she solved it.

When she moved on from a job around here
I talked to her before she left and asked
if she would be coming back to visit
or volunteer or take some part-time hours.

She looked at me and when I looked at her
her face didn’t look like faces I see
but it looked like a face I’d imagine
if I were writing a fiction story.

“This place,” she said, and glanced around the room,
“will not see my shadow again. Ever.”

I don’t think I ever saw her shadow
and although I miss her it’s exciting
imagining what her shadow’s up to
because whatever her shadow’s up to
I know it’s not going to out-wit her.

Her face didn’t look like faces I see
but it looked like a face I’d imagine
if I were writing a fiction story.

Lost in shadows, memories of faces
or rather memories of some faces
are like memories of when there was light.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .



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The Lost World Of Stacy And The Llama



Anna Kournikova’s Face


A Bird Who Could Fly To Neptune



Jeanne Hébuterne — Art As A Grail