Shadows

I looked for you in
Portland last weekend,
but you were nowhere to be found.

I was certain you'd be at Powell's,
in the dark aisles of the Blue Room.
I pictured you mingling
with Proust and Updike,
maybe Angelou.

I wondered how it would be
to spend the afternoon strolling,
the leaf-strewn sidewalks of 23rd,
holding hands, getting close,
snuggling under autumn's cloak.

Then later, I thought, after a show,
we could stop by Elephant Deli
for a bottle of red and a late night sup,
to share back in our room
along the riverside.

I looked for you in Portland,
though you were nowhere to be found.