A snapshot of a stranger

I never noticed her, just two stools......a way;
we both sat with bleary eyes,
sipping silly concoctions of
fruit and rum

she had the sort of face
that blended,
like yellow and blue
and with a swipe of turpentine,
her existence could be erased-
no trace of green to perceive

it's jarring, how eyes grow lazy
with time;
and are nothing like the lens
of a newly born curiosity,
time no longer tickles the spine
with its meddlesome hands,
it just ticks...
until someone notices
who we were meant to see