lost

i first find her
half naked
in the basement

chicago
1990s
i am just a teen
she was born
from cold marble vault
one hundred years before
i even sparkled
as they say
in the eye of the one
who birthed me

i watch her
that first afternoon
watch her long and slow
then come back one more time
i don’t understand how
i know her already

chicago
early 2000s
i race down
familiar flights
short on time
(always)
but determined
(obsessed)
and i watch her
i watch her all the way around
i caress her bare shoulder
and i shiver

when we meet again
on that chilly lower level
chicago
circa anytime
i will linger
and i will finally confess
what she already knows

the lost pleiade (1874/75) – the art institute|chicago
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