I told a friend of mine I would write him a love poem as a testament to how wonderful he is. Since he loves poetry and, frankly, is the perfect muse for any hopeless romantic of a poet, I took advantage of the inspiration.
Like the majority of my poems, the title for this poem came to me last. Reading over the poem and immersing myself in the imagery, I just came to this one instance in all the daydreaming where I imagined myself asking that question during the walk to Pier 62.
It's such an awkward thing to ask, to hold someone's hand; most people kinda just pick up or make the cues and do it. I think that's why the title stuck, because I can be such a hesitant, bumbling and clumsy person, especially when I am smitten. Yet, I'd like to think a moment like that, when you're all starry-eyed and mixed with shyness and eagerness, holds that beautifully awkward, awkwardly beautiful sweetness to it.