Flea Market Portrait

She must be glad for me
The way she smiles—
Fingers parted
Holding her chin like the
Setting of a diamond ring

Is she as buzzed as me?
Upturned eyes, lips that know
By what I am excited—
Gesture, light, the line
The gentle weathering of time

You’ve seen the ghosts in me
Since I strung you to my ceiling
But I fear that it’s one-sided
Do I even know your name?
I don’t retain our conversation

I’ll admit,
I’m enamoured by your company
If it’s conceited, I don’t care
But I wonder what you think of me