Last night, someone
blue and beautiful brought me
my dinner, her lips all
lit up from the inside. Sitting there with profiles
distorted by pleasure, we
recognized the shape of the
moment as it lay

distinct and glassy against our
skin. There were no questions -
“What are you thinking? What do you want?”
We didn’t need to ask
these, sitting on the wrong side
of the window while our lovers
hid in the crowds outside.
I didn’t need to know where she went
when she was out of my
sight because I could already see

her leaving, red socks on
white tile, slipping
as if out of the house her
parents had left her
down to the ground floor
and out, over
the welcome-mat puddles and grey-dirt paths -
into the world, the sky open to greet her
and the rain dropping like
shards of glass.