Future Perfect on a Train

So still she sits – watery eyes
vanish into her screen,
her perfume conjures flowers
I’ve not yet seen
with shades of pastel pink and gold
with filigree edges
swirling in a vortex
chasing a future perfect time.

in the loop
sound is magnified,
she speaks, sotto voce
as her thumb and forefinger
expand her screen.

Her face waxes stronger,
her brow smooths,
she taps screen letters into words,
her glistening red lips
slip into a parted smile
as she presses ‘send’.

Her words
slide into a void
of gone but not yet read.