running up
the subway steps, I blink
into the sunlight
past the shoeshine man—
you, waiting
                      with flowers
 

finally home
wet by sudden rain, we dry
each other . . .
outside, a neon blinks stars
onto the slick street
 

midnight,
a drone of lazy fans
in the dank air;
he kisses a bead of sweat
on my nape
                      lingering
 

a city asleep
in the rain, rivulets
find their way . . .
eyes closed, I stroke
the curve of your back
 

the window
half-open to city sounds . . .
at midnight
a mouse comes in
with the moon