She was bedecked with jangles and suede
ready for a cool drink in a dim pub
excited to build something beyond her
But he wanted to sit across from her
in a vinyl booth with coffee
in cracked ceramic anxious to tear away
jagged bits of himself he held close.
Their projections of themselves barely
fit the other, but close enough so
mental acrobatics were like emo foreplay
and sparks between them glowed
as pure as muffled glittery first snow.
The rain didn’t register over the things
they didn’t need to say.
The Word Rummager 
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