Tiny shops hunch in a row
On brick and clapboard feet
A huddle of windows filled
        with come-on-in
The sun slides behind their flat tops
As I wait for you on the bridge --

Clouds push and shove each other
Across a dusky sky:
                I watch you cross the street
A thief bearing a single plucked flower
Your pockets crammed with promises
        that won't be kept
But I don't care
My pulse is launching rockets --

The river beneath flows
        in irrefutable rhyme
Smells of moss and deadwood
        fill the air
Brown geese out for a swim
        are making social calls
As you take my hand
                Small
        Into yours
And I know
When I look into your eyes
I must never kiss you
As twilight tucks us in
        And brushes back our hair --