Ars Poetica

She tears a page from her notebook—
the one with Alexander DeLarge holding up
a glass of Moloko plus, grinning as his bowler sits
atop his dark hair. The paper
flutters downwards towards the pavement
and she steps through it like it never existed,
like the words were meaningless.
She never even looked back, just kept walking
and scribbling frantically on a new page
as if the previous was blocking her thoughts.