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One-The first,
spoken to the back of
the woman in the library
who was ponytail, tortoise shell glasses and red pen behind one ear

Pardon me...

Two- The second,
spoken to the right ear of
the very same woman, weeks later
crunched in close, in a crowded department store elevator

You smell like a shy bouquet

Three-The third,
spoken to his lover,
as she lay next to him, half awake

My fingers never tire of exploring you

Four- The fourth,
spoken into a phone,
connected to the woman, who was miles away

Our bed tells me it cannot bear another night without you