Apology

Just moments before the dogs and I came

around the blind, climbing curve, you must have

leaned your bike against the tree and peeled

the spandex riding shorts down and squatted.

Really, I would have turned away but for the dogs,

who barked and ran at you and nosed you too, I fear,

as you stayed, then quickly wiped, and tossed away

a pale white rose of tissue before standing.

There remained then the momentary difficulty

of sweat-wet shorts pulled up, a sort of

push and sway of roundnesses and nylon

I will not further describe. Instead

you should know that, as it seemed you preferred,

I never saw your face, though you must have

glanced around at the sound of the dogs’ bark

and seen me there as well. Forgive me what

I did see and did not turn away from,

what I could not now or ever know you by

anywhere, though it is also true I will never forget.

Know also, that in your haste to be gone,

after your hard pumping strokes took you

out of sight beyond the next bend, I saw

the tissue there, on the old road’s rocky verge,

and therefore shooed the dogs away and touched

its filmy petal edge with a match.

I stayed until it almost all had burned,

then twist-crushed it under my bootsole,

that there be no evidence left, no litter,

and after a rain or two not even scent enough

to make the dogs take note again, although

this morning, making breakfast, I noticed

how it all came back to me—in a cloud