V.47

Writing the last poem was weird
I got to the line where the dog
was scratched, and I felt a scratch at
the back of my head. A tall girl

scratched the back of my head. Then stopped.
In the café she stood in a
phase which lasted a long second.
Then she realised she didn’t know

me. What an oddly nice event.
She was very embarrassed, ran
across, shouted, oh my god its
the wrong person. I talked to a

guy across from me, said, that was
weird, but nice! and he said, it was!
Later I heard them chatting on
about how she didn’t pay mind

to him. Well, her absent minded
nature bestowed me a gift of
a surreal moment I will dream
the way the fabled soul mate comes

from nothing to slide through the door
of unawareness. It was nice
to meet you, anyway. I sat,
wrote this, and calmed down. Life is strange

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