10.05.03 - 7:15 p.m.

you are always wearing the same thing, the same
faded stained adidas and a hooded sweater
corduroy pants in winter and jeans haphazardly cut off
above your ankles any time else, the green and orange bag
i made you ripped and patched with flowered calico
slung across your chest and you sneak up behind me,
long fingers on my waist tiptoed to nuzzle my neck
and i always spin around, you hug awkwardly one
arm over one arm under clasp my hand and squeeze
it while we talk - you are the kind of girl
i need, one who when i say i like your new hair says
yeah, me too. i think i look like a vixen.