You don't search for love

it finds you tucked away

in a corner booth at the Mint, drinking mojitos

and gossiping, or beside the last empty seat

on the number eight bus, shopping bags

piled at your feet. It finds you

when your eyes are closed, arms spread

to feel the breeze coming in off the ocean

at Ogden Point, as you wait in line

to order your morning coffee at the Black Stilt,

when you first hear the voice

of the man standing in line behind you.