When you make a mess and both laugh. When her hair gets caught in the dial of your watch. When your glasses scratch her clavicle. When hands are too cold and goosebumps ripple up thighs. When bodies knock into furniture, and you have to stop. When you spill water on the nightstand. When you wobble the lamp and shadows lean across the bed. When her flesh dials a coworkers’ numbers on your cell or the phone just rings. When your “Harry Potter” audiobook plays on shuffle. When church is in seven hours. When the shower is too hot and you jump back out onto the duck-shaped mat, she laughs at you, calls you a wimp. When the bath is too cold and the upper drain gurgles like a drowning obese man, there are never enough bubbles. When she tastes like soap. When you talk about your days and thoughts wander to tangential curves and your mutual acquaintance Steve, you forget what is happening. When clothing gets stuck on heads, twist of feet, elbow crooks, and in the wheels of an office chair. When it is still on your floor, and your grandma visits at lunch she smiles saying you found a nice girl. When you try something new. When you miss. When straps and buckles never unstrap or unbuckle. When your fingers panic, they are charged like blades. When the moon. When you’re late. When you don’t want to put your bra back on. When you hair is off kilter like a bonsai tree. When it was almost like dancing. When someone sneezes. When you hiccup. When she breathes. When drool. When scratches. When bitten. When church is in four hours. When the laundry tumbled on. When the oven started to smoke. When you forgot. When tickled. When kicking. When hurting. When doors unlocked. When his belt buckle shocks your navel. When arms ache and legs cramp. When curled the next morning in each other. When it’s cold across the room, and your clothes are so far. When you miss church. When eyelashes rub each other. When the sun. When you try to talk. When moaning. When sighing. When screaming. When getting back. When breaking apart. When getting back. When your lips smash together like trains. When you fold the cloths after.
Written 2010 during the English program at Augustana College