published in Volume 1, Issue 5 on November 20th, 1994
She walks ahead of me. Small, but sure. In my life she is a giant who could crush me without a thought. Statues of monkeys play at my feet. There are two at the edge of a fountain. On sinks, the other grasps. A passerby wonders: "Is she rescuing him? Or pushing him in?" I wonder, as well. So strongly I wish to take her hand Or put my arms across her shoulders. But she walks ahead of me, quickly, and it is all I can do to keep her in sight. I neglect the statuary in my haste to keep up. I lose further ground staring at six children and a man. "Two steps forward," the man says. A foolish child follows the instructions, and is chided by his peers and his elder. I take many steps forward, closing the gap, though Simon did not say. She waits for me at the end of a wall. She chides me for not taking enough time, for not paying attention to park and statues and children. In the river, boats drop anchor. There is a ramshackle houseboat here. Blue and pink and love and scavenging. The _Times_ says the people who live there are circus performers, and pay no taxes or rent. But she is sure it's a different craft. She won't meet my eyes, because we see different things. To me, it is a blue and sunny day with the one I love. To her, it is a moment with the cloying and indecisive man who follows and desires her. The park ends in a pond, with a poem. It speaks of life and love and loss. The late sun makes the granite letters unreadable. I skip it, and am again chided for my lack of caring. But I am too busy trying to keep up with this woman, who wishes to lose me with her fast, short stride.