that summer I tasted music for the first time
I loved a boy who said my knees knocked together like

commuters during rush hour
in his eyes were waves against Barceloneta
and

he slid lyrics in between my ribs at every traffic light

when we made love I saw sound
and

his breath coated me

like varnish

I dreamt I lost him between books at the Rylands;
sliding in and out between hardcovers
I found him soaking

in a clawfoot
masked in steam, coaxing me to slide in

there is a bustle of him in the square,
gradient beard and all

I visit it when we’re apart

despite the stone,
I feel his warmth