Photo by Junel Mujar on UnsplashI Thought I Saw You in Buenos Aires
as I crossed Sarmiento to Bosques de Palermo
to watch the geese trundle to the green water
where lovers in pedalos looped their lazy circuits
and hugged the shade close to shore. The crowd
merged our lanes, but you didn’t shy from the pull
and turn of our arms’ slow collision. I lived two lives
while your dark hair dragged over my shoulder. In each
you stood in a whirl of jacaranda blossoms, your dress
blue as summer. Of course it wasn’t you—but it was.
