Here’s the problem: each day of cloudless sky
when I gaze up at limitless azure,
I remain caught by pure glow of your eyes
that night I first kissed your perfect lips, sure
you’d step away, a queen enflamed by her
insensitive gift. You stayed. Studied me
like a scientist both puzzled and stirred
by her new discovery. “Oh, so we
are doing this,” you whispered, as if caught
up in some chemistry experiment.
Research approved, you turned, began to trot
downstairs, looked back to smile with contentment,
then dashed to catch the D Train to Brooklyn.
On the Village bus, I just sat and grinned.
Roger Armbrust
August 30, 2007
