Waiting for the ride back home,
I notice a woman with socks like yours.

Like the ones you used to like,
With polka dots,
Black and white.

Like the ones I liked to pull up,
When I knelt down
to tie your shoelaces up.

Like the ones you used to take off,
After throwing me on the bed
to make love.

Like the Christmas pair I gifted you,
Before I knew
there was not gonna be more of you.

There you are, holding the book with one hand,
with your legs crossed,
reading.

I notice you,
I always notice guys that read.

The seat right next to you is empty.
I take it.
My hand touches your leg,
I shiver.

There you are, unaware of all the things that go through my head.
I am emotional; I got some bad news today.

I desperately want to take your hand, squeeze it. I need to.

I take a peek at your book,
“marriage”, I read.
You look back at me and I pretend.

The bell rings, my stop.
I look back at you and there you are, holding the book with one hand
with your legs crossed
reading.