How lucky I am to be loved
by the right person
for the right reasons

How lucky that she saw
through whatever bluster
I had curated, that she saw
beyond my obvious
need to be loved
and chose to love
me anyway

How lucky that she chose
to imagine a selfless
me, a chance to be
exactly who she was
but with me, for me

Even if I'm wrong 
about what she saw,
I'm right 
about what it meant,
I'm right 
where she imagined us

It was a bright day
She had thick hair
almond eyes

She left the club
and then came back
to talk to me

I owe it all 
to that kindness,
to her

Don't call it luck

_{In honor the day that changed my life — Sunday, August 22, 1993. The day I met Michelle here.}