I’ve just seen a face

It’s so singular and peculiar.
How I feel about you,
women that I have met.
In casual encounters
at a restaurant,
in the market,
pumping gas.
You are instantly forgettable to me,
and I to you.
We share barely a glance,
but in the chance lottery of some dreaming night
I flesh you back into existence, not knowing why.
I awake none the wiser,
but when we meet once more,
the dream is retrieved.
I remember your face, your movement, your quick glance.

And, most singular of all,
I know….
I fancy….
that you had your own purpose, design,
and means
to be that thing so rare.
The architect of a dream.

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