Across the street you

Across the street, you.

Head down, walking fast.

I caught your eye for a second,

and it all came back.

That fight.

'You always pick the path of least resistance,'

I'd spat it out, sharp, bitter.

Meant to hurt, and it did. Your face

went slack. But the words were true.

They hung there, between us, after.

And still do, sometimes.