long fingers against your shoulder, on your temple
soft mouth behind it—not anymore, but
it’s okay it’s okay.

a good listener and a good talker, and a mouth no closer now than a foot away
it’s okay it’s okay, and a handshake to close the deal
left open between your legs in winter.

it’s okay it’s okay. an almost-perfect parting, no closer than a foot away
but no farther than a mile, and “let’s still be friends” true and ringing
for the record books; for real.

and summer throwing states between you, but words to bridge the borders
and “I met this new guy” and “I think I’m gonna see that girl again”
and telephones, and postcards, and true-blue.

but
dark and sweaty july air and a visit and a cocktail
long fingers brush your temple by accident “oops I’m sorry!”
and
soft mouth behind it, close
no closer than a foot away—not anymore, it’s okay it’s okay.
and “let’s still be friends” muffled through your mouths and mouths
harder to understand, now