Mirage

The man in the Mexican Restaurant had your build.

Your haircut, shoulders, rib cage and behind.

You, easy. From the back, in a minute.

My body, turncoat, began agitating.

Warm, welcoming sensation.

Cling peaches in heavy syrup.

Entirely consumed by you.

Until, as mystery will,

he turned his head to reveal

a stranger. The wrong man.

If only

he could have stood still

with his back to me

forever.

Just like you.