i can see it
the way you fit together
in a second
your red socks and canvas shoes
under cuffed jeans
her old lady skirt and thrift store pumps
on slender ankles
two heads of ruffled hair
before i saw you paired
i wanted to tell you
about feeling your hand reaching
through the page
but now you have real wrists
and fingertips
and you are nudging your frames
with one hand, the other
resting easy on her collar bone
i'll walk home, the spring air
softening around me in the dark
all the sharp crocus smells
pushing through the damp earth
i'll pull your book from my shelf
and trace my ankle bones along
my windowsill
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