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.