Man at the market

I saw a man
at the market –
he put me in mind
of a future you,
filled me with strange
focus, like desire,
and my eyes
followed him.

He had, like you,
a slight monk's patch,
was worn by years,
yet strong, his frame lean,
his arms and feet bare.

He moved with an appealing pride,
born of fearlessness
I caught a whiff of,
and he smelt familiar.

His head, like yours,
a little heavy on the body,
yet held high in lion style,
albeit the 'mane' (just like yours)
was not lush, but fine-haired:
no coarseness there.

When I first laid eyes on you,
three years ago, in a queue,
you were smiling
at a cashier in the Foodzone,
a little ducked, or shy,
and my pre-mother, pre-wife past
flooded back all at once,
in a rush.

The man at the market
reminded me of a future you –
a male counterpart, perhaps,
to what I am becoming?

Simple and bejewelled
and magnetising, wild,
composed
and free.

– Silke Heiss, 17th January 2022