Gentlemen Only.

He finds time in places

I’d never think to look.



Fifteen minutes tucked

in the back pocket of his jeans,

a half-hour, hiding
behind the lapel 
of a pea coat.



Then just gives them away… for free. 



Meek and mild, completely wild,

bounding into consciousness

chiming “good-MORNING!”

as I sluggishly slide across the sheets

to hit “snooze,” one more time.



Memory like a goldfish.

Eternally spellbound
by the 
every day miracles that somedays, 

I just swim past.



A light in the old bell tower of The Pinnacle,

mapping out the first of the evening stars, 

or the way of a woman’s hair as it falls,

tumbling over sun-speckled shoulders,

pinned back by leaves and moss 
in the park.



Then standing, in the almost dark,

in a place I’d never think to stand

with the last five minutes of his day

he sends me on my way

with the scent of fresh flowers,
and day old cologne.

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