That night I saw you firecracker starburst red,
ablaze in a beautifully carved body,
an exquisite silhouette scribed against the dark,
your hand brushing your neck, gliding desire.
I wonder if you saw me, looked at me, too,
stopped breathing, too, as I forgot to breathe
at the sight of you? If you saw me in exploding color,
pictured a movie scene playing out your best kept dream?
Was I now appearing, that someone you were always waiting for,
makes us come back to this same old scene
night after night, never giving up all hope,
holding on to belief, like death, that a match is there,
and we can strike it soon, please soon as a next breath?
Or was it only because I lumbered in front of your face,
hard to be ignored pushing like giving birth,
interrupting whatever it was, whoever you were talking to,
to stutter out some over-practiced script on you?