7/16/23

We sit, white tablecloth, over glasses full of sunlight

And I tell her

And she sips her drink and says

I know

I’ve always known

I apologize, I explain

As if it could ever be explained

I do not understand the urge to possess, to feel, to be

I do not understand and I am sorry

White tablecloth, orange juice

And she reaches out her hand and she touches my elbow, she touches my elbow, and all is finally right

I wonder if she knows that I think she could drink the very sun