Every time he hugs, it's tight and fast
on the corners where we say goodbye,
his arms say,
I wish you were the one.
a guitar chimes in from the jukebox
sun softens the window
these words look like they mean something
everyone's shirt is the same
Outside, I see him locking our bikes together
in an irony of chain
I pretend to not see him first, to not be waiting
for his reflection behind me in the window
as he runs in to avoid the rain
On stools, we watch the water creep up the walls,
looking for and not finding
the inner tide that binds us