the bounce of your ponytail
as you turn your head
to look at something
small
is visible from where I sit
in my car and
wait on the light
the smallest things
an earring
the corner of your mouth
one breath
are more real
than all the passing car shapes
stop lights and radio sounds
I feel you
small solid cool and real
beneath the soles of sense
pebbles in a creek bed
under all passing, passing