Peeled Fruit

You should have seen yourself
that night, velociraptor limbs and
flailing eyes under
strobe lights, for once
your feet
moving faster than
your mind.
And I didn’t
recognize you then,
the hidden woman
I’d fallen in love with
beaming
around the corner
of walnut &
13th. Like alligator
eyes, Philly windows peeked
at the sidewalk bouncing
under your feet and
no street
has ever felt more
free. I know
we haven’t talked
in a year or two
but I leave a bowl
of peeled fruit
on the counter for you
hoping you’ll remember
what it feels like 
out
in the open.