When I’m Close to You
What did I miss? Holding your
hand as we walk down the avenue.
Your fingers, cold as heavy metal,
sort of melt within the grasp of mine,
like they’re slathered with butter. We
don’t even notice as the streetlamps
start to pop at dusk, dark settling
over the fog. Do you think we’ll
make it to the dunes by midnight?
We get there, it must be ten o’clock,
the water like ice, the bonfire built
but unlit. Where has everyone gone
off to? Nothing phases you. “I have a
lighter in my pocket.” With his oil-cooled
fingers, he leads my hand right to it.
