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May 11, 2009 / TildeWill

If My Eyes Were Green With Blue

One morning when I ran ahead of schedule,
I spy you on the other side of the cable car.
My still-wet hair rests upon my neck,
I could not know just then who you saw
With your eyes.
It was me, and I was easily beautiful to you that morning.

Sutter would be my stop.
I am on my way to work.
One leg passes the other.
You hope for my happiness that day.

I slipped my tennis racket over my shoulder,
You are on the cable car again, I had told you I sang.
Now you knew I play tennis too.
That weekend would I see you? You wanted to see me
With your eyes.
Every word I say to you speaks volumes of my energy.

Sutter would be my stop.
I am on my way to work
Your heart is uncertain,
“Let’s go out on Sunday”, you hope I would say.

My home is in Seattle, but I enjoy my deviations.
Reading is sexy, and a big part of my job.
The hole in my jeans and the wine on my chucks
Tells you I’ve really lived, that my story is worth hearing
With your ears.
You admire me for my confidence, my strength of will.

Sutter would be my stop.
I am on my way to work.
Your right hand clasps the rail,
Your left hand waves “good morning” as I step off.

Tongue-tied and twisted you speak to me
Without thinking, without being afraid of me-
Knowing who you are when no one is looking.
You listen and search my choir for my voice
With you ears.
Certain of the sound, never finding it in the crowd.

You think about me every morning
As leave your home for work each day.
You hope that I am there waiting
On my feet.

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