0.378...let's just call it Three Nine
Matching pair of escalators
Her ascent
Counterbalanced
My descent
Our eyes met in the middle
Glanced back but couldn’t look past
The toilet paper pasted to her pants
Sixth Avenue sidewalk
She strolled north
I rolled south
Smiles as we passed
Nonchalant head turn
Four and a half feet later
I crashed
She pointed west on East Pike
East bound and down loaded up and truckin
alcohol fueled flirt on the
Fringe of Capitol Hill
I stopped and turned to talk about the weather
but she’d already rolled away
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