A Saturday in Philly

Today
I feel like writing again
because the train was swaying
like the branches of a dogwood
come spring.
& instead of butterflies
petals fell each time my hip
hit yours.

I want to talk about flushed cheeks
& plush felt & gripping your sleeve
& how we became one with the city’s
chilly streets & I’m not ready
for it to be warmer just yet
if winter means I get to hold
you closer.

Today
you lost me on purpose
between murals of war
and the garb of the Xi Xia dynasty.
Moments later you would grab me from behind
& have my body sink like a sigh
against yours.

I want to remember the way
you smiled at the swords
& how you kept puckering your lips
to kiss me.
We strolled toward lunch
& you told me how we could come back in spring.
& now I’m ready for the chill to cease
and flowers to creep
up from the frost,
if it means I’ll be riding the train
with my head on your shoulder
& the warmth breaking through
is a little bit closer.

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