the curve in the small of my back
where your hand fits
aches
as I ground my place in line
push a hip through stilted chaos
hold the window view on the train
and watch apartments blur
on the way home to mine
fishbowl towers of proudly lit living rooms
messy kitchens and naked men
shy walk ups hiding old architecture
and promises of well-used dingy sofas
behind thinning curtains
all these starts and stops
before I can breathe easy in the dark
in the rain
the umbrella sits by your shoes
and my hair weeps along my cheek
but who cares, the day is done
I walk out my day through mud and unseen obstacles
to ease the ache a little
with the thought of comfort from your hands
