Only you could get away
with that haircut—you

really didn’t. If I met your brother
in a hallway or on a baseball field

would I see your face, hear your deeply accented
laugh, touch that beard

you shaved off
too soon? Would he know

why this stranger observes
his every move? I continue

to risk being
misunderstood for one of those

moments we used to share before
gravity and all other laws overtook us.