Last night, leaving a bar in the rain,
I saw a man in a tuxedo
step outside, mount a tandem bicycle,
and ride into a fog smeared alley.
I know that if I wait long enough,
I’ll think in terms of the strange destinations
and promises that lead a man in a tux
to ride a bicycle built for two at midnight:
a girl shivering in a ball gown
hitching up layers of spun sugar tulle,
an unlikely getaway, a desperate appraisal
of the transportation at hand.
Persistence. Until then, imagine I have
sent him, inexplicably, to your door.
Maggie Blake Bailey has poems published or forthcoming in The Southern Poetry Anthology, Volume V: Georgia, Tar River, Slipstream, and elsewhere. Her review of Jane Hirshfield’s Come, Thief is available now in Flycatcher, and Switchback recently nominated her poem, “Topography,” for a Pushcart Prize. She is currently engaged in a five-summer M.F.A. program at Sewanee, the University of the South, and during the year, she teaches high school English in Atlanta, Georgia.