By Julie Danho

I see him while brushing past—
bird’s-nest blond, raggedy
goatee, the striped hoodie

rough as burlap—but when
I open the bathroom door,
I look at myself and laugh

because I’m forty-five,
and so, somewhere, is he,
and the man-boy out there

with his latte and Nietzsche
must be in his early twenties,
the same as Adam in my dorm

about to play me the Pixies,
holding the disc by the edges
like a diamond, wearing

on his wrist a cafeteria spoon
that matched the one (where
could it be?) he’d just given me.

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Julie Danho’s Those Who Keep Arriving won the 2018 Gerald Cable Book Award from Silverfish Review Press. Her chapbook, Six Portraits, received the 2013 Slapering Hol Press Chapbook Award, and her poems have appeared in Pleiades, Bennington Review, and Poetry Daily. juliedanho.com.