If you were ten years younger, and I were fifteen years older.

I would have my glass of champagne clinked your beer bottle
and whisper to you: “The Tigers will win the next game, don’t worry”.

I would put the carrot cupcake on which I’d had a bite already
on your plate and say: “I want to trade it for the popsicle in your hand.”

I would point at the dazzling lights in the darkness while leaning on the railing
and ask:  “Can your house be seen from the roof?”

I would invite you to an eight-ball when I was tipsy
so you could see my rapt expression and bent-over body
then come next to me and say: "Let me show you how to hold the cue stick."