Early in the afternoon. I am half awake and lazing in a tangle. I walk up until your body trees mine, my head shouldering yours. Skin on skin we are both pallid. I count your ribs with my breasts and you walk away.
Light edges in around the corners and brightens the room.
With gray washes, not shadowing. Last night in the rain, your face bloomed under the streetlights. We couldn't find the subway, our soles on the pavement like heartbeats. When I turned, my body to the west our arms bridged, pulling at each other. You angeled yourself.