shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Raymond Byrnes



It was you who turned my head, not the dress,
which was navy blue with a white collar, simple
and trim, sort of nautical, kind of stunning.
Maybe my head was turned already, looking.

I had resolved to remain on a friendly basis for
the academic year, as it would seem improper
if faculty, however young, dated students.
Maybe we could get together after graduation.

Lines shuffled at rows of registration tables.
Dispensing course cards and advice, I stayed
calm about seeing you following the "let's wait"
letter I had sent, the one with no reply.

Now and then, maybe more now than then,
I looked. Five rows over, a portrait in blue.
Buckets of ball bearings clattered over
broken glass down marble stairs. Oh. Hello.