She arrived more out of curiosity

            Besides, the museum was neutral turf,

            Plenty of excellent distractions

            If he didn’t show, and cool,

            Just perfect for a day

            When the humidity felt like a vise

            There, a gawky couple, all teeth,

            Thin, naïve – they moved through the exhibition

            Like stiff caterpillars, so slow,

            Back and forth, as if they couldn’t get enough,

            A better view,

            And with their youth it was impossible

            To see much of the mountain

            Whether in haze or storm or spring,

            Maybe they might taste the desert dust

            Along the road leading in,

            Or worm their way into a pointillistic shrub,

            They were so close and so together 

            It was ludicrous, the two of them

            Peering at pictures like that

            Finally they crawled away

            Leaving her alone with the mountain,

            Lost a little in its many-sidedness –

            Could they really be the same? –

            Until the cool touch on her arm

            And a face she couldn’t recognise,

            The polished floor reflecting up

            Just what she wanted in the foothills

            After a long long day,

            Lithe and parched – and