Sunday, October 01, 2006



I see you strolling down the sidewalk along Prospect Park in Brooklyn. It is still a bit chilly, but this mid-April Saturday is sunny and electric. You are wearing your olive green pea coat, with a camera bag around your shoulders and an overnight suitcase hanging from one arm. You look a bit weary, though determined, from the trips into JFK and Brooklyn. Your hair, a few shades darker now, uncoils and coils in the breeze.

I smile, watching every man you pass turn back to capture one last fleeting glance.

“You are beautiful,” I mouth. “You know that?”

You lift your sunglasses and smile. The world suddenly abandons everything that is wrong. Blushing, you look down and across. Creases appear at the far edges of your eyes.

I move to meet you, shifting the weight of the messenger bag on my right shoulder. As we come closer, I am consumed by the way sunlight rides the waves of your eyelashes.

We reach one another. I say, “Your eyes swallow me whole.” Lips briefly stretch and relax. They part, whimsical. You lift your chin and I lower mine.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be twenty-three. It is early Spring in New York City. You have finally come to visit. I have spent the last three and a half months missing you. I love life in this city. I am glad you are here. It has been far too long.

1 comment:

Margot said...

your eyes swallow me whole