Always having a crush
makes life fun. The pining,
as Vonnegut preached, even
if only for a glass of water.
It was in the parking lot, dark
after shutting the trunk where
we stored your viola. You
hugged me, whispered music.
Your warmth pressed against
mine– epiphany. A concerto
we don’t know the notes to. How
do you shut the trunk to a partner
you’ve stored your notes in for
a decade? I see the complacency.
The spare tire in reach. Our palms
touched each time we switched
our beers. It’s true: one of us will
move soon, and I want to whisper
give me a reason not to.
(originally published in bluepepper, Fall 2019)