How did we get here?
I don't mean:
Did we arrive with enough buffer
for the TSA to violate our bodies,
to rifle though our baggage like the gestapo
before the plane left the terminal?
I don't mean:
Did the train make it to the station on time?
I don't mean:
Did we get an Lyft
or somehow manage to hail a taxi?
I don't even mean to imply I'm that forgetful.
Clearly, we drove ourselves to this
but it feels like we did cartwheels
or somersaults-
something has left me winded, dizzy,
the ground falling away from me.

How did we get here?
Last night we spent in silent
passion, our skin doing the talking.
We awoke embraced, footprints of your kisses
still warm on my body;
but there were still no words,
we ate like it was wine and unleavened bread,
space for twelve between us.

How did we get here?
Not all that glimmers is gold-
our sparkle made a fool out of me.
You're already leaving.
But yesterday, I could swear you
were not just a visitor.