I intersect her path
\nOn our way to work.<\/p>\n
She’s on the train before I board
\nWe leave together<\/p>\n
Take the Metro
\nShe’s still riding as I leave.<\/p>\n
She has the longer route.
\nI am but a partial arc in her routine.<\/p>\n
She holds my attention when she’s near
\nBut the porchlight knows nothing of the moth.<\/p>\n
I could call her Hair,
\nHers is long and brown and fair.<\/p>\n
I could call her Face,
\nHers is rounded, sculpted grace.<\/p>\n
But in my mind,
\nI call her Boots.<\/p>\n
Which usually she’ll wear
\nIn weather cold, or warm, or fair.<\/p>\n
Boots!\u00a0 They grab my attention.
\nBoots!\u00a0 She listens to music.
\nBoots!\u00a0 I think that she’s married.
\nBoots!\u00a0 She doesn’t know me.
\nBoots!\u00a0 And she never will.<\/p>\n
As I intersect her path
\nShe glances up at me.<\/p>\n
She glances down again.
\nI have my hat.<\/p>\n
Perhaps the porchlight
\n(faint flap flutter)
\nnotes the moth after all.<\/p>\n
As I daydream out the window,\u00a0
\nshe calls me Hat.\u00a0<\/p>\n
“Good morning, Hat.”
\n“Good morning, Boots.”<\/p>\n
And so begins the day.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I intersect her path On our way to work. She’s on the train before I board We leave together Take the Metro She’s still riding as I leave. She has…<\/p>\n