Napowrimo #21

Today's prompt was to write something ala the New York School. I've never been to NYC, and to be honest, I'm not certain I'd like to go. So here's something completely different, inspired by a moment's glance at a fleabane blossom yesterday.

There are times when I’m lulled

Into believing that I’ve forgotten

About you, but there you are,

Appearing in the sweetest of spaces,

The moments when my mind wanders.

We were stopped at a red light

On Pecan and 23^rd, across

From the crumbling police station,

When I looked out the passenger window

And saw you on the side of the road

And something took my breath away.

You weren’t the wrinkled woman

Inching towards the crosswalk,

Nor the raspa stand, the chamoy-stained

Lips of a child. You weren’t the tall weeds,

The wild guinea grass, the drifting blossoms

Of wild olives, so white and numerous

You’d almost think they’re springtime snow.

You were there, nestled in the dust,

in the unexpected smiles of fleabane buds,

Their alabaster petals arching like the back

Of a lover, you were the eye, a surprise  of gold,

erect and waiting for the brush of a honeybee’s toe

against its pollen-heavy disk.