I often take mental pictures
When I see you on the street
To think about in the midst
Of other misadventures

Ones that I wish you could live out
So that they might be done
In conspiracy

But, even when I see you
And I know that the smile
On your face is hiding
What you feel inside

And a storm of sadness might be
Swirling within you
Causing your mind to shake
And your hands to clench

I stay on my side of the street
Because to cross it
Would be to break the law

But it is not the law
That frightens me
Because the convention
Of man
Is flawed
And artless

I would go to prison
I would pay the fine
I would stand before
Judge and jury
As they read a list
Of errors and faults
All my doing
If it meant that
When I stepped back on the street
I could cross it to meet you

But I stay on my side
I take my mental pictures
Because to cross that street
Would be to break the law
And that would break your heart.