Reflections

____Young women expect an organized abstraction in the most beautiful colors, and only in poetry, never in prose. They want an impression, unique like a fingerprint, to mark their hearts and haunt their dreams, and they might imagine romantically that, even in the arms of another, the thought of the first one might become a hopeless distraction. They imagine a discreet slide across the bench in the cold weather, and a causal offer of a coat or a hat—maybe the hat; the coat is keeping him warm. They wonder if one day he'll make his hands like a breeze against their cheek, or if he'll ever have to resist the picture of their little pink mouth, and how it might fit right on top of his.
____Young women see a pair of lovers holding hands, and they know that a link and a touch mean something important. They look for someone who will make a most perfect touch. "Oh," they repeat, "for a life of sensation rather than thoughts!"
____Until at last they come upon a wavering image of a suspiciously familiar loveliness, and when setting their lashes against their brow, realize in a burst of newness that in his pair of eyes they see their own reflection. And a wondering becomes knowledge.