central park after dusk

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the street lamps shone like fat full moons but we picked

the darkest path to follow its winding course led us past

boys playing basketball without a hoop and a small dog

that scurried out from under a bench i almost screamed but

i knew you’d protect me if it came too close and so i just

gulped down my fear and clenched it deep inside my knuckles

we sat on a hill that was more rocks and twigs than grass

and you crouched down and i wanted to say come here

but i didn’t we squinted in the dim moonlight to read poetry

we had written and we both knew that it was really about you

and it was really about me it was just one of those things

we could feel aching and sloshing around in our blisters

we lay in the dirt and felt prickly bug legs skittering over

our backs and under the hems of our jeans we let our shoulders

tilt into each other like it didn’t matter but we both tasted

the fire on our tongues from words we wanted to say i can write

a hundred poems abut you but they can’t spark the burn

under our ribcages the way those words would if we let them go.