Encounter
In delicate crochet from her
vintage shop,
her long, straight hair parted
down the middle,
doe eyes that looked up to
recognize mine,
you were there.
She spoke to me, simple
directions.
I smiled transparent ignorance: a
lie.
And he, beside her, I barely knew
without the handlebar mustache,
his arms
covered in color stronger than I
remember, but
you were there.
How could he recall my shivering
face
always shielded with your gloves?
If you walked through the door,
past the blades of my back
your fingers quickly memorized,
I’d want to know if I am still a
muted palette,
a wheel of sophistication tinged
with gray.
I’d want to ask if you’ve found
the second in a million,
If you harvest parsnips and eat
them straight
from the ground while she stands
by and laughs,
carting carrots to rinse in
the sink.
Her mind is matter.
Her body is bones.
Her love is simple addition.
You don’t admire, but you
understand.
And I’m being carried from room
to room,
valued like a view with
indeterminate horizon:
a riddle you’d begun to unravel
when I still let others pull the
strings.
She’ll tell you that she saw me,
though she’s sure I’ve traded
soul for something else.
She didn’t see you in my bourbon
neat,
didn’t know that
you were there.
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