The Frankenhoff Review

I see the cleavage
of your toes
in your shoes
on the pavement.

Realising writing is better when I think of you,
I stopped, and
took out this notebook you
have
never

seen. On car-less streets
at noon
in summer
there is the advantage
of not asking

for silence.
I listen to the dance
in the hurry
of your heels
walking
away