The docent

I was walking through the CAM,
Looking for a friend’s exhibit.
I knew it was a photographic installation,
A panoramic of Antartica,
Or so I thought.
A beautiful docent
Witnessed my confusion
And approached me.
She asked what I was looking for
And walked me to the exhibit.
I mentioned I knew the artist
And she asked me how.
I explained we had been friends
In school
And kept in touch
Even now.
She asked my name
And gave me hers.
We observed the exhibit together
For some time.
And discussed
Our impressions.
When I made to leave,
She walked me to the entrance
And hovered there.
I saw that her eyes were brown
And she had freckles
Crossing the bridge of her nose.
I thanked her for her help
And rushed off to meet friends
For dinner
And drinks.
I was late, of course.
And a friend asked me why.
I described the exhibit
And how beautiful Antarctica seemed.
I mentioned the docent
Who had been so kind.
I thought about her
For the rest of the night.
I went back the next weekend
For a different exhibit
And looked for the beautiful docent.
I didn’t see her.
I asked another about her
And was told that she had quit
During the week.
I left
Without seeing the exhibit
I thought I had come for.
If only
I hadn’t been in a hurry
Or I had asked her to join me.
Maybe I would know
Her last name.