You see her walking down the same street

Every day

To the point that you’re able to recognize

The familiar clicking of her bright red pumps

Against the solid pavement

Her feathery white boa coiled her neck

Silky blonde hair flowing in the breeze

The occasional yapping

Of her anxious chihuahua

Everyday it makes your head turn

As you stare and think

“Who is that?”

She stops at the same cafe

And orders the same thing

A large chocolate mocha latte

With three sugars and cream

She sits at the same table at the corner

Checking her expensive phone

Sometimes with a cheeky smirk on her face

Everyday you pass by and think

“Who is that?”

Everyday it’s the same pattern

The same schedule

The same way

No one knows where she came from

Or where she plans to go

But that started to change

When a young boy approached her

And pointed to her face

Saying

“Who are you?”