I saw you there,
on the other bank,
across the water
where the pebbles splop
so that we can know
what is what.

I saw you there,
on the frozen pond
where the girls spin
reach and dance when
the sweatered boys race
push fly and chase
as the powder snow
dunes the edges,
spilling white spray
in drifting swirls.

I saw you, or wished I had
and began to walk away,
strong enough to feel sunlight
flip soft green summer leaves
and the creek sing glass clear
over the jutting dimple beaks,
but not so strong as to hear
you laugh rose-fired cheeks
and tell me you’re glad I’m near.

A man accidentally walks alone
along a bank he’s long known.
A man in jeans, his hands shoved
into windbreaker; his feet above
the in-town, under bridges, beside
shale banks loamy banks fallen trees
self-tossing, frolic-lite creek.

You know who I am.
I know who you are.
We know where to find each other.
I’m sick of talking to myself,
peeling oranges for only me,
sick of sucking sticky nails
after a quick early morn
soliloquoy.

Oh, listen to him,
he’s bored!
Oh, hear him out,
he’s terrified!
Oh, give him a chance,
he doesn’t know
what to do
with himself.