Wearing her man’s clothes
she goes out to breakfast,
orders coffee, wraps the
eggs in the tortillas
he loves so much, makes
conversation while loving
the knowledge and redolence
of him enveloping her.
In this pocket goes his pen
and in this goes some paper,
so he can write the spare
words for which he is always
searching. In this pocket
goes money, and in this one
his connection to her,
his phone.
She would walk a desert
to be near him, wrestle
his beloved hawks and
bobcats, argue with
scholars, crawl through
broken glass…
a pair of jeans with holes
is merely the beginning.
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