It was you in your red coat with the Albany State pins,
and me looking in downward avoidance, hoping to
fiddle and press enough with buttons, enough with
trip wires and signals, to be transparent glass.
You'd wave and smile bountiful harvest bright,
myself rubbing shoulder, thin of nerve to imagined
insults, missing connecting excepting last seconds
when “loving is a clash of lightning bolts”,
or some such saying.
It was a turning about, lost for voice's anchor
in the mellow sea of Galway's daylight,
I spun on slippery show heel, choked logic
being all I could manage.
A greater man in me wanted to gather his adventure's
packing, run fast as the bulb switch catching up,
out of breath muster some overheard phrase to adore,
wanted to turn back and yell you were my life's love,
how silly of me.