This building at the southeast corner of Pennsylvania
and Ohio Streets, is actually pretty boring
to look at. The architects broke up the flat, gray expanse
of windows and granite with a pattern that,
for all intents, could be a tartan -- or a window pane plaid.
I've taken plenty of pictures of it in the past, mostly to show
the melty reflections in its windows made by
the sunrise or sunset. This time, I tried to show some
of the lines and angles that make up its exterior.
Looking for lines is what I do, I guess, whether
it's taking pictures or trying to find the words
to put with them. In fact, I was in the coffee shop
opposite this building when words occurred to me,
words for which I need a picture. I haven't found it yet.
There's no accounting for the pleasure
just looking at you brings me.
Your broad shoulders and strong hands
speak of the power to protect and
of a thousand tender caresses.
You watch the younger women with
taut, firm bodies and curves,
inviting you to explore their secrets.
I am older, with secrets of my own to give,
shrouded in a body worn by the years,
and pale skin showing the map
to my heart.
This heart, whose beat is strong and low,
quietly stoking a constant fire
that feeds a secret of its own --
that I love you.