that day you met my daughter

You saw fits and spasms.
          arms flying.
         neck wrenching.
Instantly felt pity,
and expected me to be embarrassed.

But I saw her make eye contact with you.
We have been working on that.
I cannot wait to tell her mother.

It’s not that I want you to feel guilty;
I don’t really know
         what I woud prefer you do instead.
It’s just that you were wrong.
And I thought I should tell you.

I don’t remember your name.
What is it again?

You said hello and pretended
not to be appalled.
Kneeling down and smiling too largely
throughout our encounter.

But I saw you fidget with your collar
making sure it laid just right.
You never made eye contact.
You should work on that.