Glad to See Me?

I float in the swelter, lap water
from the air and get inside
the heads of people on the F train.
That sun causes blisters on people's shoulders, it causes
frost heaves to rise under ice, softer than those soft cookies.
All in all, not a bad beginning, in fact,
the light is preserving my view of you enough to
leave traces of your nose in that dollop of whipped cream
sinking into my coffee. I don't even use whipped cream.
Drink from a ladle to appear fascinating
and old-fashioned. Pretend to talk on the phone
when you're alone in public. Walk with your hands
in your pockets, or are you just glad to see me?