Grace the Robinson

she had spray painted legs
and cared when I yelled,
even from across streets. 

she liked my stories
and I liked the cadence ,
of her voice.

for one brief hour,
we were distant gods
and fading suns.

the balls of it all
is we didn't exchange

not number,
not jobs,
not names.

just an hour
of forever,

so I make her up,
she didn't wear makeup,
and her name will be Poem.

safe like stones
we had a moment
and it was perfect.

probably the best 
I have ever had. 

she drank vodka-soda
and I fell in love,
I hope she is somewhere writing. 

I wonder what bands she likes.
I wonder her funny little plans.
Like running errands. 

The end.
The End.
the end?