March #1

I was walking back from class
and you were hurrying towards it
when we spied each other,
imperfect strangers,
and for some reason you crossed the road.
I wasn't sure if it was you at first. But then
we gave each other copies of the same sidelong glance
the one which reveals best the whites of our eyes
and I thought it was you
even though you'd done something strange with your hair.
And then once we were a few yards past
I looked back to see you looking back.
It's funny how things can end.
Now we don't say hello
and I think I may be as hard to recognize
as you are.
Did you ever think it would be this way?