riding home

You in the red shirt to my left,
I marry you, riding home, without you knowing it
When i turn slightly, and see the inside of your ear,
Clean enough to eat from.
There is a small mole on your brown neck.
Around your neck you wear a silver chain.
(I imagine and wonder what it would feel like
For the chain to brush the hairs of my chest.
Would it pull some of them out?
Would it hurt a little?)
You get off at Lorimer, unaware we that we were meant to be.
You look to your right, and your gaze rests on me,
Just a moment,
Before you walk, mysterious and beautiful, out into the night.