Why won't you touch me.
Please.

coiffed paragon
from across the jeep
Introspection prehends

Imagining my hand as the shift
Your palm ensconcing my own
Dactyls distributed
Fitting between winged-knuckle

Wind-diffused curls
Beckon solemn contact
Grazing my temple with instinctive tendril tuck

Saccharine lips
Memory of their meeting mine
Gone

Your visage bores into my periphery
Vicinity defies expectation
I hold my own hand, and let my hair yell.