BY DELANEY BURK
Red hair tickles my sight first; you smile
at me and I can’t help imagining
a future. Leaning against the sink, dial
up the charm. We get coffee, you’re toying
with your chunky jewelry. Our first kiss
(my first, period) is on my sofa.
We’re watching Star Trek, and I don’t miss
how you say I’m grumpy McCoy. Boba
tea trips and we hear whispers of how you
are older than me. Shame is washed away
with fondness and Queen lyrics. And you do
not mind how ugly my laughter is. “Say,
would you like to—” Request silenced.
I watch you go. Was nice while it lasted.