Alexandra of 33E
 


i

gliding the length of the jetway, you pivot
around the other passengers, pieces of luggage
     and i lose my labor day weekend
     entranced by your movements
               the way you pivot your hips and waist

you smile
     blue eyes and long lashes, luscious
then settle into 33E
and begin to read
 


ii

     a book about oriental screens
or screenings, perhaps
(film or fabric?)
japanese, I guess
not quite at random, but close

backlit by sunlight through porthole glass
the strands of your hair glow—
silken and gold
     like the screens
               and your skin

 
iii

i ask to borrow your book
the double screen
by wu hung
a chinese name
and glance through its images—
some reside at the nelson-atkins
in kansas city

     on the inside cover i find
     Alexandra Tunstall
written in half-script and black ink

we chat briefly—
your accent sounds english
and i could listen to you for hours more
 


iv

all this to ask to meet you again
in a quieter place
     where i can absorb your voice

while exiting the plane
doctor rogers steps between us
and i can’t catch you in atlanta

i don’t mind too much, armed
with the magic in your name
 


v

i comb phone books and online directories
unable to find you—
perhaps you borrowed the book from a friend?—
then i hit the art history department’s web page

Alexandra Catherine Tunstall:
and i didn’t think your name could improve

i call ku info for your phone
so that i may ask
 

 



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