my friend

She lives in Serbia,
and I imagine all the flowers
of that land are blooming
a dark Novalis blue.

She lives in Serbia,
and I can't reach her.
But she is the only one
who knows me.

In one of her pictures,
she is open and curious,
amused, at least I think.
It's hard to tell with Buddhas.

The next picture's cool.
She looks like a bandit
about to rob a bank
that hordes too many dreams.

And then she is a goddess.
That look would disarm armies.
By turns, she looks seductive,
yet also self-effacing.

Finally, the rebel.
I've never been so free.
I've never been so giving.
She could teach me worlds.