From a distance I saw your upper half.
Your red lips, bobbed curls, and pert hat,
Are of nineteen-twenty-four.
When you laughed, I followed your eyes to see if Charlie was making rolls dance.
Your carefree laugh is that of one who turkey-trots, bunny-hugs, or grizzly-bears.
Your laugh is the cat’s meow.
When I looked again, I saw your straight jeans, white sneakers, and sweatshirt.
Your cloche hat is a knitted beanie.
Time-traveler, thoroughly modern, you remain in my heart.
In twenty-twenty-four when you sit studying in the library with a friend,
You have joy.