carry your shoes in your hand,
and keep the tickets we won't use
in your cloth shoulder bag with your prayer cards.
I have fixed the things you like--
as well as a poem celebrating your black-cat eyes
and your hair that makes
bats weep for jealous.
If it rains, and it will,
we can leave the window open just a bit,
allowing the ozone breeze
to love you as I do--
and with wordless gratitude for the Andean alpaca blanket
that we shake out and come together beneath;
just like charge and strike.
alternate title "Charmed, I'm Sure"
for Mary's Mixed Bag "windows"