how we know each other
You were in browns and heather grays
that looked soft to the touch
and I wore what I always wear.
I didn’t– no: we didn’t know each-other
and yet here we were together
by the button for the blind.
We waited for the light to change
you on the step, and me already by the out-of-service bus
for I was wanted elsewhere.
I only watched their light
Once it was red I didn’t wait for mine
I strode ahead; I hoped you didn’t mind.
That’s why I look familiar:
We crossed the street together once.
And how have you been since?
