As rain makes streamers along
Window panes, my sigh makes
A breath of steam, fogging
Visions of the dark, I bring
My fingers to the cool pane
Making trails through the fog
Vision clear again, the street lamp
Illuminates standing puddles and
Rain seeping from the road’s crevices,
casting secret pearlescent gleams
there’s the watery whisper of trees
as they shift in the wind
accommodating lovers, the sheets
are twisted and wrinkled, the bed
never made as I crawl inside
irritating my skin, slick and dewy
with humid air, you’re never close
anymore, I no longer remember
the sound of your breathing
rhythmic like the rain
the hand that would
reach for me, cupping
a thigh, a breast, in sleep
a subconscious question
for closeness, I always
answered in kind.

06/19/2000

Posted on 01/12/2003
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