I catch her applying her lipstick
in her rearview mirror and stop.
I want to tell her all of my secrets.
Want to be beside her,
smearing red on my lips and letting her know
if she has any on her teeth.
Want to braid her hair and bring her bottles
of honey whiskey as promises.
Want her to know about the things
I am trying to hide
and the things I lay out
on the table, even when nobody asks
for them or wants them.
She catches me five feet behind her,
with my head up and questions bubbling
on my lips, and stares back.
She has panoramic eyes.
I see past future and heavy present
in them and know the question cut into them
before she asks it.
It is quiet. Uncertain.
She asks it anyway:
“Who could hold the whole world?”
I stare back with
my settling skin and cut-glass perspective.
I read all the poetry in her.
She reads all the poetry in me.
For ten too-still seconds
we stare at each other,
lips bubbling, heads not hesitating,
and know. We both know.
We could hold the whole world
in one look.
We have held it all
for ten too-still seconds.
She looks down
and the ball of it
drops to the ground.
I cannot look away.
So I had the best idea for a date. A SWEATER SHOPPING DATE.
First you get coffee. Then you go to thrift shops and buy sweaters. Then you bring the sweaters home and wash them. While they are in the washer/dryer, you make out and stuff. Then, you take the sweaters out of the dryer and you put them on and you get all cozy and eat snacks and watch movies in your cozy clean sweaters! And you kiss a lot. The end.