Rearview

You weren't there this morning,

when I woke

but remnants of your face shone 

in a corner of my eye.

But then again,

that could've been the moon

off in the sky,

premature,

or late afternoon;

It shared your space,

in an attempt to steal

your much deserved attention.

I saw you through the window outside

there

by the building

before your afternoon break

hazy, through the humidity of late July.

You wore orange, perhaps oceana, 

certainly pink later on

when I adjusted

my visor in the car.

On the drive down, you blinded me

then followed

in pursuit of the night

when darkness accompanies

and our rearview bliss is hours away.

For now you visit Harold in Tokyo.