I saw his van three times today. The first time it passed me by--he was driving it in the opposite direction as I headed off to the Crabs game. I parked my own van on the 11th street bridge.
The second time was after the Crabs game ended. I needed to trade my trumpet and music bag for my purse to get a drink or two (I wish I'd only bought one) at the Alibi with some friends. His van was parked on the other side of the bridge. I took my time switching gears and constantly looked around in case he happened to be heading back.
The third time was after the Alibi--still parked on the bridge across from my van. I'd purchased a veggie burrito from a taco truck a few blocks down. Shamefully and shamelessly I consumed the burrito in my driver's seat and watched for him to return to his own vehicle. He didn't.
I ripped out a page from the spiral-bound notebook I carry and hastily scribbled out a poem I remembered reading in seventh grade. Folding it into quarters I wrote "For You" on the outside and stuck it into the handle of his door.