The Patternless Woman

Nothing can be distinguished
Amidst the cookie cutter figures
and plain vanilla features
Yet still you see her
The Patternless Woman

She laughs on 8th notes
and quarter rests
Her expression
Of beauty and
Full on mystery

But don’t stare for too long
The Old wives warn
Like looking in the sun
You may go blind
You ask

“How can she stand out so bright
Yet blend in so well?”

The featureless faces
surround hers again
and you are lost
Amongst the rows of cars
and rooms of Library shelves
And books and books and
Note after note
After glorious note
In major keys

The moon shines bright
and there she goes again
The Patternless Woman

You follow her fading trail
Hearing her
Voicings
and chord changes
Changing blues to golds
to blues again

But don’t listen too long
The young girls say
Like a stitch in time
You may go mad
And still.

“How can she stand out so loud
Yet blend in so well?”

Like little black dresses
on velvet hangers
Little dreams
Side by side
with little schemes
And miles and miles
of crooked grins
With backgrounds made
of mazes and riddles

But I alone
have seen the Patternless Woman’s eyes
I have mapped her face
from back to tip
And top to bottom
And stared
and stared
Until I had to close my eyes
I had to
for just a second
Just a moment…

Then she was gone

“How can she stand out so much
Yet blend in so well?”

Perhaps
She thinks in shouts
Perhaps
To ask if it was loud enough
Or bright enough
Perhaps
To ask
If it was love
or just the idea of love,
the pain, the notion
Or maybe to let you know
for once and for all
Exactly
where
to
find
her

And then you see a pattern
Within the order
there is chaos
A Yang inside the Yin
inside the Yang
Shining through at irregular intervals
Never the same shade
Never the same brilliance
But brighter
and more beautiful
than
anything
else
around.

If only you could
find a way to
hold this moment
This feeling that you get
when you gaze
at her face

But it’s too late
You blink.

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