You hold up the wall
with your lean back, and a grin
that says, I know how good I look here
in the dim gray dusk,
slim and hale and raw,
hat brim bent low. The full head tilt.
And that gaze,
true as a stag
in the wild,
but with a beer in hand.
I nod. I’ve seen this play. I know this act.
My cue to exit. I turn away. You and your sham free ways
won’t work on me.
here you are in the pale dawn of morn, that same face,
calm and tame,
that even when shut, seem to wink
at our love over and over and over.