A poem for Sunday
Why did I choose to wear that hat?
It was bitter cold, that’s why I wore
The glamorous fur: it covered enough
Of my head to render me anonymous
(I didn’t mean to look mysterious).
After the party we hailed a cab, happily
Sped, warm together in the dark until,
On an unfamiliar block, the taxi
Stopped, not a sign or a red light in sight.
Why did you stop? my husband said,
As a man out of nowhere appeared,
Like a character in a sinister plot,
Approaching the door
On the side of the car where I sat—
His face swimming close to the glass
Between us, window he knocked on
With the knuckles of his hand, a window
That I, too startled to do anything
But look him in the eye,
Began to roll down, roll down,
When in an instant he could see
A face he caught sight of
In silhouette: He must have taken me
For someone else, what sort of person,
What kind of woman, I do not know.
The hat, the hat, because of the hat
He saw someone he wanted
Or didn’t want to see, he was waiting
For her or never wanted to see her
Again, she had something he needed,
A message to relay, she owed him
Something, was there just then
For a rendezvous, or there
By chance, not expecting him
To find her, and the hat, my hat,
Was the dead giveaway
Of her identity. If I took off my hat,
He would have known right away
Who I was not. All at once
He un-saw what he had seen,
My ignorance of who he was,
The danger of his innocent mistake,
Evident without a doubt (his jaw,
A flicker around his jaw palpable).
And he said Go,
Releasing us into the night,
Touching the car door
As if breaking a spell.
Why did you stop? said my husband,
Once more, as soon as the cab took off.
I thought he was an undercover cop,
Asking me to pull over, replied the driver.
Through streets of neon ice and snow
We fled, until Jack and I were home,
Safe in bed, though I, sleepless
Beside my sleeping mate, couldn’t stop
Wondering who he thought he saw
Before the window rolled open
—What did and didn’t happen
Inside the moment between—
Couldn’t, for the life of me,
His face in the glass unsee.
