A lost love.
I buff the rear view mirror with my coat sleeve.
Crowded steps. Groomsmen. Shivering bridesmaids.
A blur of white lace disappears inside.
I slide along the back row. Old, familiar, burnished slick. She passes.
Me to the aisle. Crisp scent of White Linen.
The organ quiets. I arch and crane. A glimpse, a profile wedged in memory.
Then, a kiss to another.
My collar up, I sidle away.