you asked what I thought of you
point-blank, blunt
Bewildered, I examined the birthmark on your arm
scuffed sneakers and your eyes
the new old ones I liked: you had gotten rid of the colored contacts two months ago,
day we met.
mouth open, I searched for a word and was astounded at the difficulty
smiling and I closed my lips, you seemed confused
I took your hand as the subway doors opened and dragged you into the city
we ran up the stairs, his hand was warm like the cigarette night air
I’ll show him what I think of him, we ate burgers on the street corner;
he spilled mayo down his shirt and we threw lettuce and laughter at each other.