hey i think we've met before
two young sets of eyes
staring quizzically from
across the tabletop
of a chinese restaurant
with paper lanterns
and oriental
tea being
****** through
chattering teeth.
i met you at a bowling alley;
you told me you couldn't bowl.
it was pretty cute
when the ball landed in the gutter
time after time-
why would you bowl?
you said
why wouldn't i.
perfect sense.
ink stains my fingers,
i watch the splotches
as i comb my hands through
your hair;
so we've met before
and we keep meeting again
and again
inside dark closets
warmed by hanging clothes
and static cling
me to you
you to me
that's how it should always be.