I sometimes look for you
in sunny parks amongst
the weekend soccer dads
and the families walking
or cycling near the brook.
I watch for the way you walk
and take things in with a poet’s eye,
but I know full well you won’t
be there, or in the department store
carrying Christmas parcels
on the escalator, looking harried,
or sitting, back to me,
in a coffee shop reading your iPad,
drinking cappuccino. The man
who turns with chocolate at the
corners of his mouth is not you.
Not even a bit. His shirt is a colour
you would never wear, and his hair
isn’t tousled, and he isn’t pleased
to see me like you would be
when it’s been so long and
we’re finally only metres apart.
Anyway, you’d be drinking beer.
Jane Frank’s poems have recently appeared in Australian Poetry Journal, the Bimblebox Art Project and a number of other journals in Australia and the UK. Jane teaches a range of writing disciplines at Griffith University in both Brisbane and on the Gold Coast in south east Queensland.