And how I can only love you

with my eyes closed

And my hands open

Maybe that’s why I felt it

before I saw it

Touched you

before I trusted you

And when I tell you I don’t wanna be

Like a jacket you put on now

Only to be shed later

When the cold is gone and the sun is out

I don’t know if I can see it in your eyes

That you understand

But fuck if I don’t feel it

From the tips of my fingers

To the dip of my collarbones

Electric and soft

How did you do that

Make me want to float inside you

Before I even knew if I could swim



They still wear their jeans

down past their ankles

cuffs grazing the gritty crosswalks

collecting dust and stories in their hems

And they still laugh loudly enough

to make us wonder

what the joke is

and whether we’re being left out of it

As they look out

those streaky subway windows

just like we did

they’re writing their lives in their heads

watching the world pass by

to the tune of a rumble

And they still hook one another

by the elbows

tethering themselves to each other

like a promise

zigzagging across

the platform

Too young to count

their youth in years

so they do it

in dollar slices

and skipped train cars

pulling their friends

through the last few seconds

of those closing doors

and yeah, they’re still laughing

they’re still laughing.



How do you think

They get the sound

Onto those records,

I ask

Because it doesn’t

Make any sense to me,

And you agree,

Makes no fucking sense

How a disc spinning under

The dutiful touch of the needle

Fills the bedroom

with a sound

As warm as the sunlight

Against our bare backs

As we lie here and listen

And I trace a fingertip across

your skin’s expanse

Attempting to memorize

Every rise and dip

Of muscle and sinew

Your exhale unfurling

with a honeyed slowness

Harmonizing with the air,

buzzing with sonorous vibration

And with the needle gliding

Effortlessly still,

I think

For a second,

It almost makes sense.