“Come Again Tomorrow”

That quiet squeak
makes its way around the corner
sneaking up on me
as it does almost everyday
around this time.

A glance comes from the rider
quick and over his right shoulder
to me on the porch, book in my lap
as my own eyes pry themselves away
from the words on the page
to watch him pass.

Our daily routine
always includes each other,

His earphones are back
playing some tune
I wish I knew.
Yesterday he rode without them,
an alarming nakedness of the ears.

I wonder where he’s come from,
where he’s going.
I wonder too, if he wonders about me
who I am,
what my own crazy story might include.

For an entire four seconds every warm afternoon
our lives intersect
and he is familiar,
this handsome nameless man.

I miss him
in the winter.


One Comment to “RIP Z.P.”

  1. this is a really impressive poem.
    i used to get that with a certain girl

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