Looking down from the upper floor
of the local Mall,
I see you walking below.
that raven hair, lanky stature
and butt twitching walk
are ingrained in my heart.
It’s been over a decade
but I know that face.
I’ve kissed that forehead,
those smoke eyes, that straight nose,
and those vacuum lips.
You are carrying
that long strap blue purse
I gave you for Christmas
when we were that first Christmas,
together.
I remember how your elation
exploded in to kisses
which lead to carnal Christmas joy.
(Would that every present I give
elicit such a response.)
I stop at the escalator.
You are coming up,
I choose to go down.
When we pass,
I smell the perfume
that is always you
as you go up and
I go down.
Rusty Truck 