Photo by Sydney Shaffer
Cold skin, too stubborn
to wear our jackets outside
even on Christmas Day.
My mustard sweater keeps
me warm as different types
of smoke dances around us.
Fingers stinky from
the beer spills.
orders us iced water.
Dancing to music that
dates both of us.
Chlorine scented hair.
Red, white, and blue
frosting smeared across
She hands me a summer brew & I crack it open.
We countdown together,
in a Times Square apartment. Her maroon blouse smells
of menthol cigarettes & french fries. Confetti on the floor,
We are up to our ankles in it.
just so pretty
floral romper with matching shoes, & rain showers over our heads as
we interlock fingers and run
through the gritty streets of Manhattan. My grin grows wider with every kiss. I like the way we know it’s okay
to tell each other everything
we are feeling the exact moment it happens. We buy the last copies of a book
as if it was meant just for us.
I am starting to think of you as the you in all the pretty songs I listen to.
I’m no good at math but I count down all the days until I get to see your glasses sitting perfectly on
your face with your smile to match.