Yesterday I looked up from the stained sidewalk
to see your reflection in Macy’s downtown window,
your red hooded wool cape tightly closed at the neck,
your long brown hair peeking out. I spun around,
hoping to catch you, hoping you’d catch me.
I guess I didn’t turn quickly enough.
You were gone, replaced by a group of tourists
gawking and mumbling about transient matters,
not noticing the bewildered man in their midst.
Crossing the Third Avenue bridge, I saw you
in a cab by yourself. You looked into my eyes
as you passed, then turned away without a smile.
Was that really you? Tell me that wasn’t you