Our bodies lean so easily toward each other,
though we'd spent so many years living in them without knowing who the other


but now every line and angle of your clothes,
your raspy jacket collar, your faded jeans,
the curve of your nose and cheeks,
the points of your fingertips on your knees
are lurching in my direction to tell me

that I love you

And what a strange feeling, to be told by the parts of some other that I love it—

The simple polygons of your being are pronounced with a voice that loops when I turn my eyes toward them; they say:

"Yes, yes, yes— you love me"

and I nod and marvel and say it silently back:                                   

"Yes, yes, yes— I love you"

then you look up from your electronic reverie and look at me with a clean gaze
and smile a little quizzically

and I just nod and marvel, lean farther into your raspy collar
and the train keeps taking us closer to home. 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed