Texting might be all right for some,
But by tacit agreement, we moved to emails,
The old-fashioned method.
Playing with words is what we do,
And having new words to share
We wanted freedom, and streams and streams
Of words to shape our course.
We talked over breakfast
Polite, I think. Perhaps on our best behavior.
Did I tell you I was in knots with nervous anticipation?
Did you know how I sat outside the diner,
Determined to breeze in
And act like I owned the air around me?
We had dinner, but really, we talked.
The food was incidental.
Did I tell you how I waited in my car for a moment,
Because I saw you sitting in the sun
Reading Billy Collins, and I liked how you looked?
We met again last night
And you walked me to my car
And held me in the rain
And pulled me somewhere safe
And kissed me in the dark.
We talked on the ‘phone tonight
And the talking was like the kissing
But you kissed me before you ever called me.
And I liked that you asked if you could call me,
But you didn’t ask if you could kiss me.