On the D

Like two fingers in, you are a tease, so today I left early enough to take the D home
just in time to see the still-bright twilight burst into the tunnel then return down into the dark.
Next to me a man holds a bouquet of pink roses sheathed in a lavender tulle and I wonder about
the woman set to recieve them, how probably she looked soft, like when you cupped me and said it felt
like your hand held the belly of a small bird, a bird beset but patient, or maybe she's as hard
as the drizzly Harlem wind that hit me today, as i walked down 125th, away from, and to, the D,
and how it fucked me so hard, so wet, so cold, but now here back in Brooklyn, the sky is still dripping
but the wind has turned into kisses and how this time I never looked back toward the city and how
and how maybe I took you in the deepest, but I'll miss you the least.

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© 2018 Monica Lewis