helping out the sketch artist after being robbed

the police

ask me in to try and identify

the thief

who stole my watch, my

phone, and

my wedding ring.

snatched it right off my hand.

to which i replied

to the thief,

you're doing me a favor, my friend.

this made him smile before letting out

a hearty laugh as he ran off.

but the police sit me down

and ask me

to describe the man 

while the sketch artist tries

to convey on paper the image

i remember.

he had blue eyes. i start off.

blue, not like the ocean

or a robin's egg.

but more azure,

deep and mysterious, like

maybe how

the lake looks before

a storm. a summer squall.

the artist shakes her head

and says, okay, go on.

they were kind eyes, i tell her.

and when he smiled

and laughed, they lit up.

full of mischief, i might add.

his face was long, perhaps a

Norwegian bone structure,

with a high forehead, giving

me a sense of intelligence.

and his chin had a dimple,

not too deep, but just a soft poke

by God's finger.

if he hadn't taken up a life of crime,

i think he could

have modeled for Calvin Klein

undergarments in Vogue.

go on, go on. jeez.

was he black man, a white man?

no, no, his ethnicity was beyond

my comprehension. he was everyman

in my minds eye.

however,  i'd say he was well tanned,

perhaps a little burned

on his nose where he should have

applied a better zinc cream,

but sadly he smelled

much like a cheap brand of coconut oil

that i've come across

while slumming at beaches

on the eastern shore.

Ocean City, for example.

oh my God, the sketch artist says.

was he

tall, short, fat, skinny?

what color was his hair?

come on, give me something.

i don't know about the hair, he was

wearing a nice

dark cotton hoodie, with the strings

tied in a bow under his chin.

but i'd say he was medium in stature,

and i could tell he was fit by the way

he ran off in a very nice sprint.

his gait was very athletic. his arms

swung effortlessly from side to side

as he disappeared into the night.

he had a certain, how shall i say,

a je ne sais quois

about him,

stylish without trying,

and when he looked back, and gave

me that smile again,

i noticed how white and healthy

his teeth were. almost blinding

in the dim glow of street lamps

that lined the boulevard.

i don't believe he ever had a cavity

in his life.

okay, we're done here.

you can leave.

and by the way, you're never

getting your stuff back.