Friday, April 17, 2015

Pasta in Paterson

 (for Roe)

June 3, 1981

I feel every part of you through our finger
Entwined at our side as we walk down 21st Avenue
Me as stiff as the pasta you must buy from
The tiny Italian shops in this part of Paterson,
The sun warm on my brow as to make me sweat,
I feel your lips without ever kissing them,
And the press of your chest against mine
I have never felt for real except with a hug
Aching as I ached back when we first met again
Me always strutting at your side as proud as a peacock
Thinking about what it must be like to be with you
To touch you, to do more than just dream you,
Though on this day in Paterson, I felt it all
This tingling in my fingers that didn’t stop with the tips
But rushed through the whole of me, making
The dream I always dreamed seem real
My fingers firmly fixed between yours
Lip to lip, hip to hip, chest to chest,

Churning up a warm to which the sun could never compete.

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