here.
and then not.
well now what?

he’s holding back tears,
this soft summer
says he has a cold,

my hand magnetically,
attaches to his shoulder
and pulls him closer.

He kisses my head,
“you’re such a good friend”
as his arm snakes round my shoulder.

now we’re lying.
swaying summer grass
his hand takes mine,

jokes that my arm
is in the wrong place,
Corrects it with caress.

we are standing somewhere,
here and then not,
this isn’t fair
well now what?