Paean

A friend’s writing about a woman on a bus, an impossibly large iced coffee, and the thrill of summer.

A woman on a train, maybe. Or in a meeting. Dressed to disappear, and failing.

A woman, described.

The flesh visible through her sweater captures my attention and won’t let go.

A woman on the train, so pretty I become a 17-year-old boy.

A woman on the street, described in the detail she deserves.

A woman on the subway.

Two brunettes, separately sexy, together fucking hot.

A woman on the subway, gone before I could finish writing about her.

She’s very pretty, and she’s stealing glances at me.