Strangers in the Bathroom

She tosses her hair
and tugs at the halter,
absorbed in the mirror,
oblivious to me.

What she is thinking
I only can guess at,
boys and Eminem and
who's bringing the weed.

But I still remember
a girl in a jumpsuit
who laughed and yelled "Dad!"
as we skied in the trees.

The bike rides and zoo trips
and Halloween ghost walks,
her fond endless chatter,
the wet kiss on my cheek.

I miss her so bitterly
I choke on the toothbrush,
and the girl who replaced her
leaves without words.