In the cobble stone lane
a young woman in dark shawl was
pushing a large blue baby buggy.
She stood there
in the middle of the path
not moving one way or the other,
the buggy mostly sideways
when they strolled by.
Looking down, they saw
the plaster cast baby doll
wrapped in a blanket.
“It was her eyes, those shining eyes,”
he said later. “Something about
not being present.”
The sky was misting and
they couldn’t get warm in their room
at the Shakespeare Hotel.