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LISA ZARAN

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There I Was


It was the kind of night
Where the stars come out
Swinging. Suddenly thousands,
Hundreds of thousands, each
One like a memory, sky full
Of old scars.

A group of three girls pass by,
Preoccupied with themselves,
With something within themselves,
With one another. Too impossible
To ignore, I watch them as they
Move off.

One bumps lightly into the other.
She laughs. Their histories are
Probably full of long, starless afternoons,

Like nothing I have ever seen.


Copyright 2003 Lisa Zaran

 




 

 

 
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