I do not want to go home yet,
For the night sky is but navy,
The moon one third,
And the girl with the wrist tattoo,
Has not stopped looking my way.
And so I sit,
Writing this very poem,
Hoping she’ll recognize my serious pen,
The way my hand presses against my head,
And how each time I drink my tea,
I lower my glasses,
And look up-
An advertisement for yearning,
Mine’s the blinking light spelling out,
OPEN.
What she will never know,
Is how we might have danced,
Under the nimbus,
While soft jazz charmed the crickets

Gene Kahane is an Alameda poet. The above poem was an Honorable Mention at this year’s Benicia Love Poetry Contest.

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