she graced the city sidewalk in the morning light,
enamored of the glamour in the storefront window,
amid the hurried and more purposeful armies of tweed.
if her eyes had ever glanced upon you,
then you were, yes;
you were, if only for a moment.

did you breathe in that instant?
I propose that you did not. 
no one ever does.

you stared at her fleeting place in this world
until such a moment as it occurred to you
that she had vanished, 
and may never have truly  lingered, 
tangibly,
in any mortal fashion.

it is in these moments we glance over our shoulder
as we cross in the traffic, 
to ponder this avenue of an alternate fate:
perhaps to marvel at the audacity of destiny, 
as he abruptly, unapologetically
spins you on your heels, 
only to fold himself imperceptibly
into the ebbing flow.

now, jarring you,
you as you stand, bewildered:
the miraculous sound of her elusive name
without benefit 
of her ever having uttered a sound.