You
pointedly turn
your head left
and so do I;
walking towards
each other, past.
Your hair is a different
cut now. My skin
is tanned caramel
for a change. We
both have new tattoos.
My pant cuffs drag
on the tiles and planks
collecting dust.
Your breasts are parted
by the crinoline strap
of your purse.
I have swallowed
your juice,
your sweat,
your short hairs
and spit.
We know this, still
you pointedly turn
away, and so do I,
as we pass. Each
saying to the other,
“Do I know you?”
(2003)
