Chivalry

Chivalry by

He strolls down the middle of the sidewalk

leaving little room for me. I lag behind

to get around an open gate, to avoid

a fence post, a mailbox sticking out.

You don’t walk as fast as you used to, he says,

striding ahead on his personal red carpet,

feet turned slightly out, a spring in his step

like he’s about to go up for a jump shot.

I dodge a low branch and the open door

of a parked car. Just as I decide

to hip-check him out into the street

he stops and crouches to pet

a little white cat. He croons to her,

stroking her arched back. The cat

closes her eyes and I think of how he sleeps

nestled against me, turning when I turn

all night long, and never wakes me.