passing strangers on the street

every time i go to take the subway at lawrence
i find my head turning, scanning the traffic,
sorting through the loose crowd of restless bodies
for you.

i keep picturing
my impression of your quirky grace
five years ago,
your casual stroll and
darting green eyes, or the
the way you used to fidgit.

but the impression never fits,
even when you are over there
across the street, going about your life,
i cannot recognize you

jay walking with your du maurier cigarette in hand
to greet me,
i stand back, aloof,
displaced from the sidewalk,
the blur of cars,
faces and you,
and i realize i'm much happier never having
known what it was like to lie satisfied
in your modest arms.