I heard this, this morning on NPR.
Secret Agent Man by
Joyce Sutphen.
You looked so good at the top of the stairs
that I wonder if you might consider
standing at the bus stop near Franklin
and 22nd at about 6:30 AM,
wearing a dark overcoat and a red
scarf, nodding (just slightly) when
I pass, and I wouldn’t mind looking
Out my office window at about
10 AM and seeing you (so small I
couldn’t be sure) waving from
the far corner of the parking lot,
and then, at lunch, you could be
the mysterious man sitting in the bar,
the one who never turns around until
I am almost out the door with friends
who would have no idea who you are,
and it would be wonderful to see you
disguised as a UPS man, coming in
at 3 PM with a large package
full of various useless things
and a note, telling me exactly
where I could find you later on tonight.