Subway Poem 4

I wonder if you enjoyed your lunch today; if you left your paper at your desk and carried your sandwich--perfect in its plastic case--down to the courtyard; if the sun glinted off the foil as you unwrapped it; if, perhaps, unwrapping it, you found a Post-it that your lover had scrawled. Thinking of you, it read, in her knowable hand, then x's and o's, and your teeth sinking into the bread, and the wind, o wild fall wind. Soon she'll pull out that old blue scarf again.