Paean

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.

A woman at a conference, chewing gum, selling to dentists’ offices, in linen pants that hug her slightly big but unquestionably delicious ass.

A tiny, gorgeous, engaged bartender asked me for marriage advice. I gave her some. But mostly, I just stared.

A woman in a coffee shop, observed.

A woman on the subway, observed in close, hungry detail.

A brief encounter with a woman I’ll never see again.