Every time someone said your name,
You would either glare and rebuff them
Or smile shyly and hide your face in the crook of your arm—
The wants of a teen girl were Eden’s fruit,
I kissed them in my head, confessed the sin
I walk out 191st station
to a coffee cup’s steady jangle.
As jazz fades in my ear,
I’m greeted by a smile
inside an ash grey beard.