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Met
The hour was late, and I had been exhausted
by a day ripe with things to do and to say.
I knew that there were people here, with me
and on top of me and standing just nearby;
people that I knew, all the same, but here
they felt like strangers without any sense.
One thing was simple and clear: she
had sought me out despite the absurdity;
and as she found me wounded on the bed,
she climbed in between me and the sheets.
We kissed for a moment, just long enough
to feel the heat and the anger and tension
breaking completely, as if something there had
finally met its inevitable end.
Then the intrusions, when hands had gone
off wandering in search of a fuller feel.
All laughing and smiles, each with a joke
but none with a thought of what had occurred.
After was moping and fewer good words
spoken to friends who squatted and stalled.
I had left for the shower, when light had bent
and then I was lying in a shallow pool of sweat.
