how am i ever to get
your long legs through those skinny jeans of yours?
i thought this
before you pulled them off,
pulling on some pajama bottoms instead,
flannel, checked, soft beige,
so unlike you,
more like the curtain hanging by the tub.
bewildered i sat,
resting from my chattiness,
or maybe just too worked up to have anything to say.
my sister gave me these,
ah yes, our common ground,
our fragile common ground.
i saw a picture of your sisters,
the wedding picture.
yes: how strange that you remember.
i don't feel much,
just that our bodies are welded together,
not like strangers in this one man apartment,
but as suitors nutted close in a field of stillness.
what imagination i conjure as you hold me,
our bodies together,
our limbs fallen between like sticks,
my leg sliding off your flannel bottoms,
the most real thing i remember.
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