the feel of the tire arched against my
back as I smiled for you,
My hands intertwined with the steel cords
I wished was your hair
And lying open, hoping
and hoping still as you walked on
That one touch of your arm around
my shoulder- a brief flutter of
your imagination, or mine?
And I think that sitting, joking on the couch
we might have kissed if they weren't there
and if it wouldn't have seemed trite.
When we stood today, watching
(incidentally) close close close
I could tell that your shoulder, your arm at least
remembered
the unresolved almost of the night.
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