A Light Snow was Falling

The streets are damp
chill creeps past the seal
where the sole of my sneaker
meets the fabric covering my instep
making my feet want to abandon
once pristine socks, now
unpleasant squishiness
My sweater, because who needs
more than a sweater
in the wilds of Florida
is heavy on my shoulders
I’ll drape it over a chair
in my office, where the AC
will be running no matter the temperature
28 or 88
It runs
 
Waiting for the light to change
I tilt my head
mist on my eyelashes
too faint to be rain
is a kiss goodbye
 
Once we wore high boots
waded through slush
not caring how long it would take
to get to the west side
for pain au chocolat and
café au lait
in wide, deep cups, two hand cups,
where we’d sit outside
on plastic chairs.
You said, there is a spot of chocolat,
licked the corner of my mouth.
 
I don’t know if the wet on my face
is snow
or a shimmer of tears

Date Night

We tried something different
Set on saving, changing, tweaking
this thing between us
that wasn’t a relationship
that wasn’t a friendship
that defied any name we chose
if that name wasn’t Passion
 
Together, we had that aplenty
layers of now, silk layers
upon layers on top of more layers of
silk, with a tensile strength greater than steel
yet it dissolves with friction
The geometric progression, the Fibonacci spiral
lightening scorching our flesh
blood thundering
counting the seconds
syncopating our heartbeats
even when we were miles apart
 
But we, you, I wanted to try something different
something normal, human, ordinary
We rode the 6 train downtown
to some rancid art theater
Sid and Nancy
A nice normal couple in a rom-com
until they end, overdosed
in the notorious Chelsea Hotel
 
That could be us, you say
Your hand on my thigh
spreading your fingers
singeing me through the denim
I am lost in last weekend
my eyelids flicker
But we’re not punk rock gods
Or heroin addicts, I reply.
You breathe, The before.
The day before, that could be us.
 
I am melting into the worn seat
more stains and sticking to the floor
blending with decades of spilled soda
 
I close my eyes, your mouth on my neck,
The music, the smell of butter
When I open them
we are ordering vegetarian chili
You tell me you’re meeting up with friends
in Alphabet City and kiss my knuckles
and you’ll call me tomorrow
I take the train uptown
to find my car
drive home
alone