Morning Commute

Take

your hand

off the door

and take a step

with me.

 

Flex

your eyebrow

while your side eye

grants me a grin–

did I say it

again?

 

“I like you,”

and all those messy thoughts aside,

“I know you,”

or at least I want to.

 

My steps feel lighter

now that you’re part of the story

rolling through my head–

or is this my stop at Penn?

 

Don’t want to miss my train again…

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January 28, 2016

One for Love

A gentle tap.

A slight placement

of a hand,

carefully, on my back.

Eyelids perched

on radiant,

story-layered skin.

The sound

of your kiss

like the rain;

the taste

of your breath,

a summer wind.

Your gaze

tells me you have

everything,

right here.

I trace your lips

to remind you

I am

only extra.

 

January 27, 2016

on lunch break

how nice it is

to sit by the river and unwind,

blink by

blink.

 

you know your same-old view

in the city:

skyscraper tree tops

that leave you wanting for a chickadee

 

where can I find just one bird?

(the pigeons are beautiful, mind you.)

 

I yearn to hear a song;

the water gives it to me–

it gives it to us

as long as I keep my ears open

I can hear it all the way from the skyline.

 

remind me how love songs go, again?

does he start?

am I the minor chord?

 

the wind trickles in;

between my toes

the water hums.

 

my shoulders sigh

as I remember how easy it must have been

 

to let

doors open

before windows closed,

families eat meals together

after swimming through the day.

 

the world stills;

my eyes close;

and I tell my heart,

“It’s okay

to remain

open.”

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January 21, 2016