the first time i saw you drive
was in york the christmas before last.
i forgot my sunglasses & squinted
at the little circles your thumb
painted on my wrist with your
free hand. you apologized
for the cheap date: tacos and a matinee,
for the stale-smelling red roof room,
for your family home.

there was no need.
i still miss this little weekend of ours,
when we were raw,
before you knew me
too well.