We sing to the music from your car radio under a late sky,
Under the melodic excuse of keeping in harmony with you, under
Twinkling lack of light that hides our faces but cannot hide a sparkle I now notice
In your eyes.
Not reflected by a mirror or the screen of a phone or an old photograph-
An excuse for who you are, printed on a plastic sheet, is only lying to you through what you think you see.
To me, your beauty shines in the way you laugh, your silhouette etched into the cheap light of
fluorescent bulbs transformed by a daydream to a sea of glimmering stars.
November scratches her claws impatiently across the pavement as we walk, now,
And for a moment we become ourselves,
Not performers in a play.
A brilliant, unscripted, unrestricted breath of air,
And the peace in the confidence of the table we share.