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I thought I saw you the other day
when I was lying in someone else’s bed
half-asleep and
without my contacts so
it was easy to make the mistake.
I thought I saw you,
staring at me with brown eyes that weren’t quite yours
I thought I saw you watching me from behind foreign eyelashes
He knew what he was hosting.
I thought I saw you in those words, floating in the air like some sort of gray cloud
I thought I saw you in the mirror, and I said, “Hey! Wait!
I have spent too many hours wearing a hole in my floor for you to come back in here.”
I thought I saw you on every page of every book and every poem, and I saw me, which is
why I thought that I saw you.
I thought I saw you standing in the middle of the road waiting for me to just tell you to get out of the way or at least just walk right passed you.