Poetry: Love at First Sight

For my sam­bear

Love at First Sight
–Jen­nifer Maier
From Dark Alpha­bet

You always hear about it—
a wait­ress serves a man two eggs
over easy and she says to the cashier,
That is the man I’m going to marry,
and she does. Or a man spies a woman
at a base­ball game; she is blond
and wear­ing a blue headband,
and, being a man, he does­n’t say this
or even think it, but his heart is a hom­ing bird
wing­ing to her perch, and next thing you know
they’re build­ing bird­hous­es in the garage.
How do they know, these aus­pi­cious lovers?
They are like pas­sen­gers on a yellow
bus paint­ed with the dreams
of innu­mer­able life­times, a packet
of sepia post­cards in their pocket.
And who’s to say they haven’t traveled
back­ward for cen­turies through borderless
lands, only to arrive at this road­side attraction
where Chance meets Neces­si­ty and says,
What time do you get off?