I'mma Gonna Commit Lame-Ass Poetry

[chadu]

There,
At that light on the Mall,
I saw you.
And you saw me.

You: on foot.
Me: in my car.

You raised your scarf to cover your face, purposefully,
And looked away,
Only to look sidelong, repeatedly, as I waited at the red
To ripen into green.

Oh, I looked sidelong too, many times,
Trying to determine if I was crazy or just wishful (or wistful)
Or maybe even in anyways correct in what I thought was happening.

"You're mad," I said to myself.
"It's a mad world," myself replied.

Red bore green fruit.
You crossed;
I turned.
And again our paths led away.

Only one stolen glance as our eyes locked, for the merest second.

And, we were again alone.

Was it really you, in fact?
Improbable.

Was it really you, in truth?
Probably.

Was it really me?
Definitely.

It was a melancholy ride home,
Perfumed with my failures.

Which are many.