Reyes Bueller’s Day Off

I was supposed to work on my paper
about preindustrial cities,

instead I meet you for lunch,
a subway and a taxi ride away,

the heretics in business suits,
the incandescent office girls

contrast with nondescript human beings
who tallow and twist about,

a holocaust of hot asphalt in their teeth.
I breathe the space between them,

and then I realize I’ve been looking
directly at the boxing glove of your smile

in the delicatessen window, you wave,
I wave back, it’s a great day off.


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