I didn't know she would not recognize me without hat
just as I almost didn't when she wore hers i
n a picture she sent, a regular gangster look,
titled so that she stared into the camera lens,
not with threat with but
with a promise I
felt all the way down
into my loins.
Only this was daylight at a diner where
we were to have breakfast
I came, head bare,
when most people knew my hat
better than my face.
She glowed,
losing not one iota
of the mystery
she exuded in volumes by night,
not quite an angel,
but angelic none the
less,
evoking a reaction in
me with a mere look,
a glance, slightly askew,
her deep eyes hiding
who she really is,
and yet promising to
let me in if I am worthy.
She looking down from up one step, waiting,
patiently, yet at the
same time
impatient for something yet to come.
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