The woman on the merry-go-round

I have not yet reconciled myself to the reality that life passes us by.

I was standing at the corner when I saw a young woman wearing dark glasses, driving a dark SUV, her dark hair pulled back so that I could see her attractive face as she approached.

As she reached the crosswalk, her mouth curled into an expression that I could have searched for some minutes more for clues to the meaning of life and my curiosity.

But in another instant, she was gone, probably, from my perspective, forever.

And, furthermore, the moment I captured in my mind’s eye was already but a fading shadow.

I might have halted the rotation of the earth on a whim –

except then we would all have rocketed into space, screaming from our painted ponies as the merry-go-round screeched to a halt, gears shattering, melting from the consequences of my monkey wrench thrown into the works, the music slurring down past guttural groans into the silent vacuum of space.

So as there seems to be no solution to this dilemma of time, I will walk this way again tomorrow, hoping against hope that the woman of my mystery will cross my path again.

But even should lightning strike twice, I doubt I will ever see that look on her face again.