I knew I was falling in love with you
the day Jane Russell died.

My sweaters and leggings
were all over the bedroom floor
from my opened suitcase,
travel tags still dangling,
when you called me from the living room.

You mentioned the news,
slid the back of your hand across your eye,
and I remembered when we met,
you called me Jane.

It wasn't a failed attempt at my name,
just a quiet marvel
between the woman you always loved
and the woman you might.

11/09/2011

Posted on 11/09/2011
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