Will they bend down and listen to me?
– Hootie and the Blowfish

Leave Lexington, head down Richmond Rd (the Old one),
turn on Jack’s Creek
(pass dead ‘possums as needed)
for a walk in the woods.

I understand
when asked to join me,
why you wouldn’t risk it.
I am years older,
employed but careerless,
and recently divorced.
You’ve been divorced for two,
recovering nicely with a career and PhD on the way.
I am not woods-worthy.

When we met at the pool two weeks ago
I made you laugh despite the surly look on your face.
I’ll never get why pretty girls are not constantly smiling,
particularly when playing with sons.

Marching, I reach the overlook
300 feet below the breeze pushes ripples
into the Kentucky River.
I pick up a rock like a penny
at the mall, wishing in the fountain.
Thoughts about you and the future squeeze
from my palm through its smooth edges.
I keep it next to lint and Green Day
playing in my pocket,
proud for not tossing it.

Between songs I stop
walking, pause
the ipod, feel the wind,
hear the music of tree laughter.
Crudely, I raise my arms and spin,
probably something I learned in church.
They sway standing still.

Near the “nature center,”
I trek the final paved path to the lot.
A doe interrupts me 30 feet ahead.
On “time grabs you by the wrist”
I rip out and reel in earphones,
listening.
Her majestic timidity is your face.
I stand still and wonder
if her fawn is close behind like yours.
He leaps onto the path dodging
the pavement, aggravates
his gait, flinches
to address my ugliness.
His mother stares at me
Speak of beauty
You are first on my list to tell.

-Duke Gatsos