November 1st, 1989
“Thief”
It was raining when I met you
I remember
I entered the saturated bus and
had to search for my daily seat
because I couldn’t recognize it
at first
It was occupied by you–
Thief
You tried to be discreet
by looking out the window and
pretending it wasn’t obscured
opaque and wet
All the while wishing
you could turn up the collar on your raincoat
without being noticed
I wanted to help you
I wanted to sit on your lap
and cradle your printless finger
with my gloved hand
and together
make clear cut-outs in the glass
I wanted find that dry place you were seeking
I wanted
I wanted
I knew you’d find it
if you’d only let me
(If I let myself)
because no one knew the landscape
beyond
better than I did
But I brushed past you instead
and found a new place
to sit
I didn’t want to alert anyone
to my complicity
with the utterance of an apology
if my rain soaked umbrella
had cried
upon your shoe
