While You Wait
I thought yes the striped one when
you had to choose between two shirts.
Our clothes always on the floor,
our headlights only on low beam in the city,
tonight as foggy as when
I had a place in some other town where
I took the bus and knew the bars
that opened up at 6 a.m., my ears still ringing
from the thrust of bass, the drag queen/nurse
offering me lines in the ladies room. That was
then. This is how I spell your name phonetically.
Now I know the hairs that root around
the oblation of your nipple like I could
draw your fingerprint blind.
I like your eyes, your hands are cold.
May I kiss you. You may lie
to me when I tell you I'm afraid
of truth beforehand. You can do
anything. I haven't named your hands yet,
your mouth remains a separate math. What
do you think of my eyelids, my lips pale
as dead? I have been waiting
days, months even. Hurry up,
I'm starving. Put on the shirt,
drink down the glass, put up
with how I ride the clutch at stoplights.
I am trying to get there faster, I'm
driving fast to where we can't be closer.
You're being patient. I can tell that.
Author Discusses Poems