I think of how
we kissed in the blue-lit bar, how nothing
ever turns out the way they do in romance
novels, more like a Dali painting—
objects dripping out of reality
into strange and lonely space.
But in an hour, I find your unfamiliar body
explaining itself under my fingers.
I realize something about the elegance of surprise
as morning arrives wordlessly
light breaking over abandoned streets
with the simplicity of a story that’s told
again and again and again