Poem | bk in town for a couple of nights, come for dinner?

Who is she really?

This girl who keeps

finding me?

I talk of her to myself

and no one else.

She was no one new,

I know.

But someone

I never knew

well…

We use to meet often,

this girl who’s integrity

hadn’t yet

slipped

away.

Her dimples arrived as I did,

when our sites

between our silhouettes

and the infinite background

were, for a moment

all that existed.

And I stood there before her

like a man who’s soul purpose

on earth

was about to be

accomplished.

I wondered how

so many women

had stolen

my attention

from who’s talking,

now laughing,

now looking at me

in the way that

she does.

And I wanted to run

my fingers through her hair

as she slept.

I wanted to observe her

stroking a puppy.

I wanted to cook

and host for her family.

The infinite combination of

traits that would make up

our children, I wanted to know.

I wanted her to remain someone

who’s trip would never end,

and who’s integrity

would show me

that people could

remain good.

…