This evening I saw you from across the street, G. She carried her shoulders back and walked purposefully as you do. Your littlest gestures will always be familiar to me. Much of you (but perhaps not your walk) already has become me. I often notice you in my own playful reflections.
Last weekend I kissed you, C. She smiled and was paralyzed by our energy as you use to. I will always have your eyes closely gazing into mine. We kissed as strangers kiss (as the book title said). And as hard as I try I cannot remember what she looked like beyond this sacred vision of your face.