In Profile Separated by glass, I measured You against your profile photo your height, your age. It was hard to tell much through the distortion, just wide steps and a book tucked under your arm. I watched you heading up the street, run a hand through your hair conscious of my out of date head shot, my lies about smoking, my infant son asleep at home in his bed. Wasn’t I too old for such nonsense? Over drinks, you told me you liked my strap line I smiled, didn’t tell you it was typed on a whim, for lack of anything more interesting to say to potential lovers. ‘‘Bring me Sunshine” but you still do.
Jennie E. Owen
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