to a girl i just saw on the bus and fell deeply in love with but probably won't see ever again

a sudden full stop woke me up
but i was more beshaken by your eyes
green and vast
like the oceans of my childhood
clear yet mysterious all the way

you were listening to who knows what
on your obviously counterfeit ipod
i just couldn't help staring
at your genuine, striking beauty

your black black hair tied with a red band
the stained and battered beige coat
tiny silvery strings on your multicolor scarf
a chupa chups in the side pocket of your backpack

there you were
standing with your educated middle-class dignity
crushed between strangers at rush hour
on a proudly refurbished metrobus

then it happened
the elusive instant our eyes crossed
a fraction of a second
just a little fraction

but you got off
looking somewhat bothered
ran into someone you probably didn't know very well
and disappeared in the crowd


daniel bennett (Washington, DC, 1979)