Wow.  This so reminds me of a time I was in love and went to (the) Art Gallery (who IS Art Gallery, anyway?).  The guy I was in love with wasn’t there, but I thought about him in spite of that.  I wished for him, and that we could go for lunch. 

The main exhibition was a bunch of giant paintings done all in black.  They had different kinds of brush strokes, and that was the only difference between them that there could possibly be.  I looked at them all, bemused, and then wrote to my beloved about the whole thing, later. I was studying philosophy at the time.

Cool poem!  It’s, uh, evocative.  I haven’t thought about that experience for ages. 

J.

i totally dig this, too.

if i’d change anything, i’d play with the (so i believe) part of line 6, and maybe just scratch out the first line.  i don’t think you need the first line, as it is a little sentimental for me, and the rest of the poem is so direct and powerful in its imagery.