in the Before Choice Disturbs
I walk over as if guided by ghosts
. Half Asleep
A diviner with a stick looking for soft water
For now we speak, we need to, bartering
words like at a market
our lives produce
stacked in neat round moments.
"We do something dangerous when we talk.
" She says,
but I forgive
her. This is her fourth drink
Out of the bar and into a cab, our hands
find comfortable places, and the tension drains
Then, at her door, never thinking of going in,
I am pulled by unseen attractors.
Before I even step through her door,
before another glass of wine,
before I feel the cool sheets,
I notice a pressure.
The pressure I guessed and sensed all evening.
The pressure anticipated
falling onto her lips.