The fact that our heart yearns for something Earth can’t supply is proof that Heaven must be our home.
Flannel shirt on the subway,
I love you.
Bodyguard arms, hands
clasped below the bellybutton.
Who are you protecting?
From across the train, I love you.
And maybe I can’t remember your
face, but I remember your clothes.
I remember the girl waiting for
you at the station and how your
body uncoiled at the sight of her.
I remember the slouch of your back once she touched you.
From the other end of Brooklyn,
I love you. Could have loved you.
Not as a stranger on the train,
not as a pair of eyes looking
too long, blinking.
Heart beating too fast
not mine not mine not mine.
In another world, I am the dream on
the platform, one foot on the yellow
line, waiting for your walk.
I kiss the rigid out of you.
I take your name out from under my
tongue and hand it to you.