Paean

A woman on a train who may or may not be someone I know, and who may or may not want me to take her home.

A beautiful woman’s gaze on a street corner — forward, warm, unreadable.

A woman I can’t stop watching, even when I should.

A woman on the subway, described in obsessive, reverent detail.

A portrait of a woman on the subway.

The subway provides, even when I’m not looking.

A woman, described.

A strip club encounter with a dancer who spoke English, pulled hair on request, and had a heart-shaped ass. I was a perfect gentleman. Seriously.

A woman on the subway, seen with unearned precision.

I’ve never met Sofia, but I know her body — in fragments, in parts — better than I know most faces I see every day.