You missed it Wwhen I tapped the yellow tape to open the door and held it while you stepped down.
I missed it when the subway was packed and instead of looking up, I kept my eyes buried in that Don DeLillo novel.
You missed it when I smiled at you after cleaning off the bench press at the Y.
We missed it when we sat at adjoining desks for 3 1/2 years, exchanging hellos at the beginning of the day, and small talk throughout.
I missed it when I judged you by the size of your ass, you missed it when eyeballing the size of my nose.
We missed one another when our ages, our religions, our availability, our skin color, our distance apart, our place in life, our exhaustion, our addictions, our mutual hopelessness left us alone and longing.