Love From Brooklyn

She sits stoic in a photograph
I’m Christmas Day of all days;
Flannel pajamas and a dumb dog
Gracing the scenery better than me.

We crossed paths, kissed and continued,
And now we are snapping pics
As if we exist in some ethereal reality
Where both of our pasts don’t matter.

Her morning pigtails beseech me,
And even though I am ugly
She tells me she loves me,
And having not heard that in a while, I smile.