Poem: Strangely Evoking

If Suzanne Vega were here right now, I wouldn’t look her in the eye. I’d stop and hold my stare out toward the window. I wouldn’t run. I wouldn’t hide. I’d stand there waiting for language to help me. Language, rushing in like liquid. Language, shaking hands with her – for me. Language, singing my songs back to her. We’d share chords, and puzzled looks.…