Giddy, we make plans for June
Once he's back from family vacation.
I'm waiting in the parking lot, ten minutes too early
Backs of my legs stuck sweaty to the unfamiliar leather of The Driver's Seat.
We're just in time for
the 2:55 showing of last season's stock romantic comedy.
There's a new one just out by our favorite director that
We'd rather see but
Gas is already two arms and a leg and besides,
The dollar theater's air conditioning is cheaper.
I blush when he asks for two tickets, please.
We sit behind a lone woman and
Preoccupy ourselves.
Thoughtfully placed hands inch strategically
Like caterpillars
Or rush hour traffic until rush
of contact, I had only just forgotten, until now,
the softness of his hands that has nothing to do with skin.
Tongue rising fat against my teeth
Anticipating the time-honored climax when
Protagonists' unrequited love discovers itself returned
The woman in front of us begins to cry.
The lights return just minutes
After I got up the guts, finally my friend,
To tilt my head just enough to allow
His shoulder to become something like solace.
We wander towards excuses not to leave and
Combine our quarters at the dollar store
for plastic toy pipes.
We sit on the curb
Like some Real Hoodlums
Puffing bubbles in each other's direction.
"Pop-Eye," I say,
"You've got some nerve showing your face round these parts,"
He spits dramatically and gives me the stink eye
We laugh because how can we be so stuffed with happy
When our mouths taste like soap
One June later
My gaze meets his outside of a 7-Eleven
8 months ago he told me I had changed.
I chuckle
Choking a bit on the cigarette smoke.