"Art is not what you see, but what you make others see." Edgar Degas

Friday, May 9, 2014


She walked underneath my umbrella
Near enough for me to smell
And I was grateful to the rain for putting her there

She stayed close to me
Never touching
Ignoring the rain

We talked about India, where she was going
And about her penchant for overthinking things
And how hard it is to relax

We waited for the cabs on Fifth Avenue to part
And let us cross

If she knew I was in love with her
She never let on.