It took my breath away. The way you bent down gently, even dancerly, with a look on your face that was close enough to angelic. I saw beyond the act itself, into your soul. You puppy was ugly in a cute way, which I thought might give me a chance. The inside out baggie in your hand was like tarnished jewelry in the winter sun. And then you scooped it up with a quick, deft gesture, got it over with, flipped it into the trash and went on down the street.
I was awestruck and late for work. I couldn't think of a way to tell you how you touched my tender soul. You got away.
Give me another chance. Every slick, stepped-on turdsmear along Bank Street reminds me of you.