As she retrieved her panties from the sleeping bag
and tiptoed along the roof, she thought, Too much

philosophy. Also: with each explanation,
the question is less interesting. Soon: sunrise

and disbelief released back into the wild.

~

Twisting of a mouth, blur of moon on cellophane,
crinkle of unshared caramels. It takes over,

like a yawn,
greed.

~

She hated his use of “we.”

We felt we must move at a slow, stately rate.

~

She noted Orpheus backdated the relationship.

Almost forgave but didn’t
because she was unforgiving and those ugly black shoes

were dropped from the roof
like an outburst of punctuation.

We’ll exchange appearances on the way,
he said. He said

photographs made the two of them
credible—and he promised to cross

the distance that could be covered in dreams.