Airy

Somehow, mountains made their way

Into our conversation. I remembered I’d seen

A tattoo on the arm of someone lovely

A sketched-out outline of three peaks.

Turning the space of his arm

Into the sky and earth and the in-between.

I told you in the name of beauty

Wasn’t that beautiful? I said.

You heard and agreed, in the light of

That slightly dim café, with its shawls and cushions

And carpets and beads. They made

Your eyes shine a little brighter than usual.

I was never quite sure what landscape you’d be

I thought of a garden by the beach

With the kind of breeze everyone

Dreams of on hot summer days

Or maybe a clouded sea.

It was difficult not to notice

How the curve of your waist tucked into the belt

Of your one-size-too-large corduroys.

And how beautiful your hands were,

Hands I watched flutter when you talked

About everything you’d make and create.

Perhaps, —yes, I was envious

Of every surface they’d touch

But mostly I could barely contain

My amazement that someone like you

Existed in the same place as someone like me

For weeks—months—afterwards

I thought of you in that coffee shop

I tried hard not to wonder

The shape your chest must make

When your spine curved

And what it would be like to see

Your frilly white blouse

Rise and fall to the floor.