approach
crowd volume, café afternoon
we measure innocence in ounces
stack lovers against sugar
sweets and skin
wonder when will we be lovely in this light
like cheeks flushed from chill
the beginning, cautious and complete
belly to the ground
at the counter, sweatervest and trousers
french roast no cream, approaches
just like a Rossetti painting, he suggests
but my hips are not so wide
duck out, sidewalk swims in dust
my hands taste like water in this cold
light burns the sides of houses as we pass
neon bright—as if we were welcome here
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