a poem: love days
There are days
when love feels
like an electric current surging
between two hands
in a dark movie theater.
A woman two rows behind still swears
she saw a spark.
There are days
when love feels
like the shake of a Japanese typewriter
listing films he wants to watch with her –
She finds moments
he never noticed
in scene three.
There are days
when loves feels
like steam billowing from a kettle.
He brews her cup
and smiles at how she sips
without ever taking her eye
off the page.
There are days
when love feels
like the highest point of a park
on a freezing winter morning.
The wind whips the trees,
but strangely to them it
glows like spring.
There are days
when love feels
like the deep swell of music
that fills the car as she swaps the CD,
feet propped on the dash heading south for the next adventure.
There are days
when love feels
like tight shared closets and laundry piles,
neverending to dos and “we’re out of soap.”
A soft resign as one of them
pulls on a pair of shoes to run
to the bodega.
But every morning,
no matter how love plans to feel that day,
I hear there is a moment
when their eyes just open
and the morning light
settles on the other
one pillow over.
In this in-between,
you will never convince them
they are awake.
They will only believe
they’re still deep
in their wildest dream.