Incognito

You're sitting on an empty chair
Looking at an empty glass
Invisible eyes
Gazing through smoked lenses
Your face melting in silence
No mirror sending your reflection

A melody sends a yellow tune
Above the brouhaha
Of the Saturday crowd
Hurrying along North Beach

Pictures taken
A flash flares
A giggle
A laugh
My mind a question mark
As I stare at the empty chair

Copyright 2011 Alain Millon