by Margaret Tsuda
On the street we two pass,
I do not know you.
I did not see
if you are --
fat/thin,
dark/fair
young/old.
If we should pass again
within the hour,
I would not know it.
Yet --
I am committed to
love you.
You are part of my city,
my universe, my being.
If you were not her
to pass me by,
a piece would be missing
from my jigsaw-puzzle day.
from This Place I Know: Poems of Comfort
selected by Georgia Heard
Candlewick Press, 2002
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