Observing you from the left side
of my cracked driver’s side mirror,
you stare ahead not knowing that

you have an admirer as we
wait for the traffic light to turn green.
You slowly sweetly innocently

blink as you breathe in deeply – I
can tell by the movement of your
chest that you are sensual. Then

you run your fingers through your tight
brown curls, curving your lips up in
a half-smile. (Does she realize I

watch her, enamored by her soft
subtle beauty and wide misleading
eyes that let on she knows more than

she’s willing to tell? Her oblivious
daze says no, looking up at the halting
red light – this moment is natural.) Then

you turn to your left, and open
your mouth in a long yawn, and your
contented eyes turn to a squint as

if you are struggling to see
what stands in front of you. At last,
you close your eyes once more, and

like me you quickly dream of what
could be. Is it ironic that the right side
of my cracked driver’s side mirror

reflects myself, gazing at you
who sit behind me with your hands
on your steering wheel? But now this

traffic light turns green and there is
nowhere to travel but ahead,
to our intended destinations.

by Ryan Wilcox