Affidavit of Error

She clutches her sweater tight with twitching
convoluted hands. These nights, like freight abandoned
for strangers, she walks into people
as if they are closets; slyly probes warp and weave.
Through a magnifying glass, she peers
into crevices, embraces
fragments of artifact with miniature tweezers:
golden locust wing,
marble spider egg,
plastic granule of amber,
synthetic quartz. . .
Her beat-up shoes, too
old for dancing; the pick-up truck is a gift
that hauls her down the road, to an other
hallucination.