Winter Wear Poem by Roger Gerald Hicks

Your daughter is trying on gloves
at Sears.
Risking rudeness, I suggest mittens
& as the two of you discuss gloves
versus mittens,
I notice you are stunning.

As your daughter shoves child fists
into mittens,
we discover we're both avid skiers,
and talk moves easily to common interests
as shoppers squeeze by on either side.

I find myself perfume-close,
able to count your freckles,
to see the spreckles
in your flashing green eyes-
I want to touch you,
refrain, but feel you wouldn't mind.

I'm suddenly warm- -
like on a bright cold day,
having slipped into a dark car
when heat permeates skin,
warm air fills lungs,
& cold is banished quicker than shadows gossip-
as if cold never existed.

In fifteen minutes we are intimate as friends.
Your daughter, only twelve,
watches in an admixture of shock
and amazement-
aware magic is occurring.

Should I invite the two of you to dinner?
Ask for your phone number?
I'm unsure
& you mention you have airline tickets for Seattle-
plan to re-marry her father.

Your daughter and I grasp
your compromise
and the taut connection between the three of us.
She votes by moving closer.

We three form a triangle
blocking the aisle.

The shoppers, the goods, the establishment, fade
as I gaze at your two expectant faces.
I'm giddy, light as a balloon.
The words to alter your futures
are dervisheson my tongue,
all is possible- except...

Wishing you luck, I turn away
unwilling to admit
I have little to share
except unpublished books
of poetry.