The streets are straight

& intersected by right angles

But I still keep going in circles.

Brown paper bags get trampled

Under my feet and then again

As I come back around to meet me.

My girl sees me several times an hour

As I cross the street to put my hand in hers.

The tree branches, shorn of leaves,

Arc over our heads.

My cellophane lenses hold them steady

Like the hand of time.

“K,” I say. “I’ve seen you in two places

at once and I love you both.”

She smiles like a red cape

And waters  the roses with her tears.