You were standing across from me today,
silent and still, looking off into the connected hallway.
I smiled at you, and your face squinted
as your prayers grew harder, hoping for a savior to come.
Today is St. Patrick's day, you in green,
shirt and probably lacy underwear and big button.
A shiny breastplate commanded me
to kiss you, here, though you can't see my soul.
You're Irish, so I'm supposed to lay a wet one on you?
Here? Now? I'm not even Irish, you easy girl.
But, I kissed you hard and you flailed with joy,
delighted that I had come, to save you, from your misery.