the woman, not the rabbit

she has a pet bunny
in her Brooklyn apartment.
if I were younger,
I'd fall in love with her. 

gorgeous and good,
she moves to her own music.
we've kissed once or twice,
and it was nice.

clearly we weren't right
for each other.
she took another lover,
and I continued being self aware.

she is not you,
notes the nothing in me.
I miss making you laugh
more than you'll ever know. 

I feed her bunny
when she is out of town.
she reads my poetry
when she comes round.