Wednesday, December 17, 2008


In the coffee shop, we
are sitting with huge mugs making miniature moons
on a medium moon table.
Underneath it your leg touches mine where
my boot meets my jeans.

My tea is too hot and anyway
you’re busy telling me about the band so I just
let it sit.
For the first time we feel normal and I’m surprised by my relief
that it was possible.
You’re leaning forward in your
seat, elbows tipping the table ever
so slightly, and hands moving.
I am listing backward, lithe and sinuous, stretching
into the space that is left.

Afterwards we walk to your car and I
wonder – can you have too much
of a good thing?
I feel full, your
hug is pregnant with what was ours and now seems
To be yours, only
I’m not quite sure why.
With my arms around you, your
breathing becomes slower, your cheekbone
presses into mine.

Easing myself from your dangerous arms, I try to be gentle.
Your hand remains on my waist, pulling me back, half
against my better judgment.
With your eyes still wide, I walk
away knowing
you can still feel my weight.

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